


The Elite

by SPowell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aliens, F/F, F/M, Futuristic, Genital Piercing, M/M, Magic, Mild BDSM, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Spanking, Three-some, WIP, animal/human alien beings, bottom!Arthur, dubcon, humans with animal characteristics and sexual habits, injury and burns, magical insertion, top!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:32:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 115,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With an alien threat on his doorstep, Uther Pendragon has no choice but to bring in The Elite, a team said to have magic users among them, in order to protect the Earth colony of Camelot. He puts his son, Arthur, in charge, and Arthur finds Merlin Emrys to be very different from what he remembers from their school days. Merlin intrigues him in ways that Arthur is afraid to explore.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or make anything from this endeavour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alien Threat

**Author's Note:**

> This is something very different for me, and I really want to post it as a WIP because I enjoy my readers comments so much. If you've read any of my WIPs before, you know that I really try to update them frequently, as I'm pretty o.c.d. about it.

“There is no way Merlin Emrys is part of The Elite,” Arthur says reading over the list again. “Not the Merlin Emrys I remember, anyway.”

“Not Elite material, I take it?” Mordred asks, perched on the edge of Arthur’s desk, eyes skimming over his boyfriend and lingering hungrily in the crotch area.

“Not at all,” Arthur shakes his head, remembering the time Merlin cried when a kitten could not be rescued from a sink hole on the playground. He’d been inconsolable, and had to be taken home from school by his mother and given a sedative.

“Well, perhaps this is another Merlin Emrys,” Mordred says, moving off the desk to sit on Arthur’s lap, his arse pressed to Arthur’s groin.

“Mordred, my father could walk in at any minute,” Arthur protests, hands coming up to clutch Mordred’s waist and still his movements.

“That meeting is sure to last the entire afternoon,” Mordred assures Arthur, wiggling provocatively. “Ah, God, your cock feels so good.”

“Mordred,” Arthur breathes. “Not here.”

“Why not?” Mordred whines. “Come on, Arthur. Take me. Over the desk.” Mordred pushes down, and Arthur can’t help himself; he reaches around and unbuckles Mordred’s trousers.

***

“The Elite are offering the city protection we can’t give it,” Uther Pendragon tells the group of men sitting before him, which includes his son, the junior CEO of the company. Uther’s meeting ended abruptly, causing Arthur to have to scramble to get presentable enough to join Uther and the other top executives of _Pendragon Industries_ in the board room. _Damn Mordred and his insatiable bottom._

“Is the threat justified, Father?” Arthur asks.

“It is.” Uther’s face is grim, lines creasing it that Arthur is certain weren’t there a month ago.

There are concerned murmurs around the table.

“So the aliens have really threatened the world?” Agravaine asks.

“They have,” Uther confirms, rubbing his hand over his face. “Factions of The Elite are gathering worldwide in target colonies, and Camelot is top of the list, of course.”

“But how can they help us?” Morgause asks, glancing at Morgana, whose lips have thinned to a narrow line. Arthur notices she isn’t meeting their father’s gaze, and that under the table the two women clasp hands.

“It is said they have…magic,” Uther manages to squeeze out, and there’s a collective gasp around the room.

“Are you certain that’s how they do it? They are highly trained in combat and special weapons…” Alistair looks at all the faces around the table before landing on Uther’s.

“These are aliens unlike we've ever seen before,” Uther snaps. “To be effective, they have to be able to do more than shoot a laser gun!” He sighs, adjusting his features. “We really have no choice in this matter. We’ve seen what this peculiar breed of alien can do when provoked—they totally wiped out Essetir-- and from their last communication, we know that they are determined to take over all the colonies. Either we rely on The Elite, or we surrender.”

Arthur never thought he’d hear his father say those words, and profound relief envelopes him on many levels. He swallows, hard.

“Arthur, I want you to be our liaison with The Elite. Give them everything they need, and keep me apprised of what goes on.”

“Yes, Father,” Arthur answers. Uther goes on with the meeting, but Arthur only half-listens. When Arthur leaves the room, he immediately pulls his cell from his pocket and calls the number at the top of the paper Uther handed him on his way out.

“Gwaine Rivers,” the voice on the other end answers.

“This is Arthur Pendragon. I’ve been instructed to set up a meeting.”

“Yes. My team will arrive at the helipad this evening at seven.”

“I’ll be meeting you,” Arthur informs him. “and escort you to your lodgings.”

“Looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Pendragon.”

“Call me Arthur. I’ll see you tonight.”

He ends the call and turns to find Morgana waiting for him. She takes his arm, guiding him down the hall, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “So, now it’s evidently all right to use magic.” Her voice is a hiss in Arthur’s ear.

“Calm down,” Arthur says.

“Calm down!” Morgana’s fingers dig into his arm. “Easy for you to say; you haven’t been hiding your magic from our tyrannical father your whole life.”

Arthur stops walking and turns to her, concern welling up in his chest. “You aren’t thinking of telling him now, are you?”

Morgana bites her lip, anger turning to uncertainty. “I don’t know. Morgause thinks I should…”

“Just because she sleeps with you doesn’t put her in charge of your life!” Arthur takes his sister by the shoulder and shakes her firmly.

“I know that!” Morgana’s green eyes flash. “But you don’t understand how much I want to tell him!”

Arthur takes a breath. “I probably don’t, no. But he isn’t doing this because he’s suddenly okay with magic, Morgana. He can’t even face The Elite; he’s making me deal with them.”

“I should be a part of The Elite,” Morgana says, teeth clenched.

“Are you that powerful?” Arthur asks her, surprised. “Because if it’s magic they’re using against the aliens, it’s got to be powerful.”

“I could be. If I had the training I deserve.” She looks away, and Arthur sighs.

“I’m sorry, Morgana.”

“Let me go with you to meet them.”

Arthur nods. “Okay.”

***

“There are only twelve of you?” Arthur asks the bearded man standing before him, incredulous. “Twelve? To protect all of Camelot?”

“More than enough, I assure you,” Gwaine Rivers replies, motioning his team forward. As they form a line, he begins introducing them one by one. All are dressed in black T-shirts, fatigue-style trousers, and boots. All appear fit and healthy. Arthur’s eyes land on Merlin Emrys, and he looks him over as Morgana asks Gwaine questions.

He feels sure it’s the same Merlin Emrys he remembers from childhood—jet black hair, clear blue eyes, and ears a bit too large for his head. Arthur notes that he’s retained the soft, pouty mouth he had in childhood—a sexy thing on a man. If Merlin recognizes Arthur, he doesn’t show it.

Arthur prides himself on learning names the first time he hears them, and repeats them back as he shakes each person’s hand, Morgana moving behind him to do the same. Gwaine, Merlin, Mithian, Will, Lance, Gilly, Daegal, Sefa, Vivian, Percy, Gwen, and Elyan.

When Arthur takes Merlin’s hand in his, something like a spark passes between them that almost causes Arthur to draw back; not static electricity, but a jolt that passes from Merlin’s body into Arthur’s and back again. Arthur meets Merlin’s gaze, and the other man looks momentarily confused before his expression goes blank again. Arthur gives Merlin’s palm an extra squeeze before letting go.

Once the introductions are over, Arthur leads The Elite off the roof of _Pendragon Industries_ and down to one of the meeting rooms where a meal has been set up for them. The team lets out appreciative murmurs as they settle down at the banquet table to be served. Arthur seats himself beside Gwaine, Morgana taking a seat on Gwaine’s other side.

“You’ve just come from Essetir?” Arthur inquires, taking a bite of salad. Elyan sits across from him, Mithian to Elyan’s right and Will to his left. Merlin is a little farther down the table, and Arthur is aware of him more than he should be.

“Yes,” Gwaine replies, chewing. “There were few survivors. They’ve been sent to hospital in Avalon.”

Arthur nods. “How many?”

“Less than ten,” Elyan answers, and Arthur meets his dark, piercing gaze.

“Elyan is our medic,” Gwaine tells Arthur, and Arthur nods.

“Less than ten. Unbelievable.”

“It was a massacre,” Elyan says. “No way for any to escape. They likely won’t survive. Gwen accompanied them there. She’s my sister and a nurse.” Elyan gestures down the table at Gwen, a dark-skinned girl with long, curly hair and a nice smile. “She told me they were comatose when she left.”

“Do all of you have magic?” Morgana asks after a moment of silent eating.

Gwaine looks at her, surprised. “No. Not all of us.”

Morgana opens her mouth to say something else, but it’s lost when the waiters begin delivering the main course. Mithian tells a story about the sort of food they eat in her home colony that soon has everyone in stitches.

When the meal’s over, Arthur tells Morgana he’ll take the team to the mansion.

“No need for you to come along. Go home—Morgause will be waiting up for you, eager to hear all about them.”

Morgana nods. “I wonder how many of them have magic?” she says softly, watching the team don their jackets and prepare to climb into the limousines.

“I’m sure we’ll find out presently.” Arthur kisses his sister’s cheek and catches the attention of one of the company drivers, motioning for him to bring a car around for her.

“See you in the morning, Morgana.”

Morgana takes Arthur’s cold hands in hers; he’s forgotten his gloves again. Looking down at them, her eyes flash gold a moment, and Arthur feels warmth spread throughout his fingers and up his palms into his wrists. He smiles at her.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she smiles before turning to leave.

***

“My rooms are on the next floor,” Arthur tells Gwaine, watching as the members of The Elite drop their bags in random rooms along the corridor of the Pendragon mansion. As it soon as it was decided that The Elite would stay at the mansion, Uther moved into his high rise flat, while Arthur left his own flat to stay at the family house to be close to the team.

“Let Gaius or Alice know if there’s anything you need-there’s a direct line to their room if you pick up that phone there,” Arthur indicates the phone on the hall table, “and you have my mobile number.”

“I’m sure we have everything that we need,” Gwaine smiles.

“There are bathrooms on each end of this hall, but if you need another, feel free to come upstairs.” Arthur nods to Gwaine and turns to the winding staircase.

Once on the upper level, Arthur traverses the corridor and opens the double doors leading to his suite of rooms.

“There you are!” Mordred comes out of the bedroom wearing a light blue robe loosely tied at the waist. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Mordred,” Arthur says, surprised, “I thought we agreed you’d stay at the flat.”

Mordred pouts. “What fun is that? I knew you’d be terribly stressed after greeting the team.” He begins undoing Arthur’s tie. “Besides, I’m so hungry for you, I can’t stand it.”

Arthur’s tired, but Mordred’s rubbing against him, and it only takes moments for Mordred to get Arthur out of his clothing and Arthur’s cock into his talented mouth. Arthur groans, watching Mordred with hooded eyes as he licks and sucks at him, kneeling before him like some kind of a love slave. He isn’t exactly sure when Mordred crossed the line between PA and boyfriend. It seemed to happen overnight, and now is as much a part of Arthur’s day-to-day existence as paperwork and  late-night meetings.

Arthur takes Mordred’s hair in his fingers and yanks on it, watching how Mordred hardens at the rough treatment, dick rising from between his thighs.

“You really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Arthur says, because he knows Mordred likes it when he talks this way.

Mordred nods, grinning, and lets Arthur’s now erect cock slip out from between his wet lips.

“How do you want me tonight, Arthur?” he asks, standing and peeling off the robe, letting it drop to the floor in a silken pool of blue.

Arthur growls and leads Mordred across the room, where Arthur sits on a chair. Turning Mordred around, he pushes a finger inside Mordred to find him already lubed and ready to go. Slowly, Arthur lowers Mordred onto his cock, and Mordred arches his back as he takes Arthur in.

“Oh…oh, yeah. That’s good. So good,” Mordred sighs, wiggling about until Arthur gasps and thrusts upward. Mordred whimpers. “Give it to me, Arthur.”

Arthur begins pumping, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensations running through him. “Ahhh, fuck yeah, Arthur. Yeah. Harder. _Harder!_ ”

Arthur doesn’t know how Mordred takes it, especially since they’ve already done it once that day. By all rights, he should be sore as hell. Arthur looks down between them and, watching his thick cock disappearing into Mordred, flattens his feet on the floor and accelerates his pace until Mordred is cursing him and tugging himself to completion.

When they’re finished, Mordred slaps Arthur’s thigh with a grin and heads for the bathroom with a swing of his hips. Arthur pulls himself up and, grabbing the silk robe off the floor, slips it on, heading for the hallway. Arthur stumbles a bit in his post-orgasm state, looking forward to taking a quick shower without the distraction of Mordred in it with him, and going to bed.

Arthur pushes open the door to the outer powder room. The bathroom is spacious, with both a large shower and a round sauna-tub combination. Arthur starts around the corner and is arrested mid-step at the sight of Merlin in profile, leaning against the far wall and stepping out of his jockstrap. Arthur is mesmerized by Merlin’s lithe limbs, tight, white arse, and long cock, pierced through the head by a bar with two silver balls on the ends.

Arthur’s groin twitches and he quickly retreats around the corner, backing into the hall before Merlin can see him.

Merlin’s body is certainly fit, Arthur muses, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. Long, lean muscles and legs that go on forever. And that cock…the man’s hung like a horse. But most titillating is the piercing; Arthur can’t get it out of his mind as he walks back to his suite and waits for Mordred to finish in the bathroom. He’s never seen a man with a pierced cock, and he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like in Arthur’s mouth, steel against his tongue.

He shakes himself out of his reverie and stares out the window at the city below, wondering what the coming days will bring, feeling as though he’s standing on the precipice of something horrific.


	2. Magic in Camelot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few very minor changes in what Uthur said in the last chapter--only specifying that the attack expected is by unknown aliens. They have encountered aliens before.  
> Thanks to those who are reading and commenting, and to those who've left kudos. I'm glad you are enjoying.  
> This is Earth post failed alien invasion, after the year 3000. There are no longer continents, but rather colonies, and Camelot is one of them. The colonies are run by Prime Regents.

The following morning Arthur finds the team having breakfast in the dining room. He’s been on his computer half the night pulling information from _Pendragon’s_ data bases on the aliens, which, from all reports, have come from an outer, unknown galaxy. Arthur’s done his fair share of space travel, being a flight commander in the intergalactic war, but what he’s seen of this species so far is totally foreign to him.

“The team’s up very early, sir,” Gaius informs Arthur in the hallway. “They went for a run on the grounds. I had the chef prepare them breakfast.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Arthur says, looking at his watch. It’s just past seven AM. He enters the dining room and greets his guests.

“I trust you were comfortable last night?” Arthur asks the group, and they nod their assent, giving murmurs of appreciation.

“I don’t think I’ve slept on a bed that soft since…well, probably never,” Lance smiles.

“Posh,” Will mutters.

“It’s lovely here,” Mithian says kindly. She’s a very pretty woman with soft, grey eyes that twinkle mischievously and dimples in her cheeks.  Arthur smiles at her.

“Thank you.”

Mordred appears in the doorway. To Arthur’s horror, his trousers aren’t buckled and his shirt hangs open, revealing his chest and a rather vivid love bite above his left nipple.

“Mordred…” Arthur begins, annoyed. Mordred immediately hands Arthur his mobile, which Arthur evidently left in his rooms.

“Your father,” Mordred tells him before casting a look about at the group of people at the table who take turns eyeing him speculatively.

“Mordred, my…PA,” Arthur says by way of introduction, flushing a little before turning his back and answering the phone.

“Father?”

“Arthur, I distinctly recall asking to be updated.” Uther’s voice is steely cold.

“Yes, and I was about to meet with Gwaine and then head out to the office to do just that,” Arthur answers, glancing back to see that Mordred has not retreated to their rooms, but is instead filling a plate at the side bar. At least he’s buttoned his shirt mid-way.

“I have a group from Essetir coming out there. They will be staying in the west wing. I want you to remain at the house. I’ll be in touch.” His father rings off before Arthur can ask a single question.

Annoyed and still embarrassed, Arthur turns back to the group. Mordred has seated himself between Percy and Gwaine.

“So, you’re Arthur’s PA,” Gwaine says conversationally, and Mordred nods, smiling slyly.

“He finds me indispensable.”

Will snorts, and Arthur quickly fills his plate and seats himself in the only available spot—directly across from Merlin, who gives him a curt nod and a baleful stare. Merlin’s cheeks are pink from his run, and his blue eyes stand out brightly, surrounded as they are by dark lashes. Arthur finds him quite attractive, and the memory of how Merlin looked slipping his long legs out of his jock strap the night previous flashes into his mind, along with how Merlin’s long cock swung between them, the silver piercing protruding from the head. Arthur’s groin tightens in reaction, and he places his cloth napkin over it, clearing his throat.

“So, Merlin. I don’t suppose you remember me? We went to school together.”

Merlin’s eyes meet Arthur’s, coldness entering them that Arthur didn’t expect.

“I remember you,” Merlin answers slowly before taking another bite of beans.

Arthur’s a bit taken aback. He wonders if he might have done something years ago to offend Merlin. If he did, he doesn’t recall it.

“I admit, I was a bit surprised to see you again,” Arthur tries.

“I bet you are,” Merlin says in a tone that could only be called caustic.

Arthur doesn’t attempt to make conversation with Merlin after that. Instead, he turns and talks with Sefa, who tells him a bit about their previous mission in Essetir.

“These beings…” she says, “they leave a coating of slime over everything.”

“Slime?” Arthur repeats.

Sefa nods. “A clear, slimey coating. Percy’s been analyzing it.” She nods toward the large man scarfing down eggs beside Mordred. “He’s a scientist. He finds this breed of alien fascinating. If you bring up the subject with him, be prepared to spend hours hearing about it.”

Gaius appears in the doorway.

“Your guests have arrived,” he announces to Arthur, and Arthur gets up, excusing himself.

“Gwaine,” he pauses beside the leader of the team, “Would you join me?”

Gwaine raises a brow, but pushes his chair back and follows Arthur from the room.

“My father has sent a group of refugees from Essetir to stay here,” Arthur explains to him as they walk to the front of the house. Gwaine is dressed in running shorts and a white T-shirt still damp with sweat. “I don’t know anything more than that,” Arthur adds. It rankles that Uther hasn’t made him better informed, but Arthur keeps his voice even and his expression clear. His problems with his father are nobody’s business.

“Refugees?” Gwaine asks, surprise showing on his rugged face. “But I thought we got everyone!”

“Evidently you didn’t,” Arthur replies.

When they reach the foyer, they find five people being relieved of their coats by one of the house staff. George, Uther’s PA, is with them.

“This is Uther’s son, Arthur Pendragon,” George tells a tall, bearded man with long, dark hair and a stoic expression.

“Arthur, this is Cenred King, Prime Regent of Essetir.”

Arthur gives a slight bow of respect before shaking Cenred’s hand, thinking Uther could have at least told him that the colony’s Prime Regent was one of the refugees.

Cenred introduces his companions, which include his sister Samantha and her husband, Brock, and two burly, male bodyguards. Arthur, in turn, introduces Gwaine, whom Cenred studies with interest.

“I’ve heard of The Elite. Your team in particular,” Cenred says.

“Have you,” Gwaine replies evenly. They stare, sizing one another up.

“How did you manage to escape?” Arthur asks the group.

“We were viewing the underground shelter when the attack occurred,” Brock tells Arthur. “We’d just had it built; otherwise, we would have been killed with the others.”

“Fortunate,” Arthur replies.

“But we didn’t find you,” Gwaine says, frowning in confusing. “We were very thorough.”

“The doors were camouflaged and blocked by debris. Your team was long gone by the time we were discovered,” Cenred explains.

“Luckily we had already stocked the shelter with food,” Samantha adds. She’s small, blond, and dwarfed by the six men standing around her.

“You must be exhausted,” Arthur tells them. “Gaius, please show them to the west wing and their rooms.” He turns back to Cenred. “I’ll have some breakfast sent up. We’ll talk after you rest.”

Cenred nods. “That’s very kind of you.” His cordial words don’t match his wooden facial expression, and the result is unnerving. The group follows Gaius up the stairs.

Arthur turns to Gwaine. “Interesting bloke. I’ve heard a bit about Essetir, none of it good.”

“Same,” Gwaine replies. “He’s one I wouldn’t turn my back on.”

“A bit odd that he and those closest to him would be touring the shelter at the moment of invasion,” Arthur notes.

“Very,” Gwaine agrees, nodding slowly.

They stand for a moment in silence, both lost in their own thoughts as they look at the place on the stairwell where the group rounded the corner out of sight, before Arthur says, “I’d like to meet with you. Perhaps you’d like to shower and change first? Gaius mentioned you’d been running.”

Gwaine agrees to meet Arthur in the library in half an hour, and Arthur returns to the dining room,  motioning Mordred away from the table. Arthur’s still half-hard from his conversation with Merlin, and he hustles Mordred upstairs for a quick pounding before time to meet Gwaine.

“Do you always stay lubed?” Arthur breathes when he pulls out of Mordred twenty minutes later.

“I like to be prepared,” Mordred replies with a wink, peeling himself from the wall where Arthur had him pinned. He hasn’t come yet, and Arthur flops down in a chair, stretching out so that Mordred can stand over him, staring down at him as he jerks himself.

“Come on, Mordy, let me have it,” Arthur commands, provocatively running a hand down his own chest. Mordred groans, face flushing crimson, and spurts white hot strands over Arthur’s belly.

“You’re so hot, Arthur,” Mordred tells him, bending to pull the condom from Arthur’s spent cock. “I’ll get something to clean you up.”

Arthur waits, Mordred’s spunk cooling on his stomach, and thinks about Cenred and his good timing. Is there any way he could have gotten wind of the alien attack before it happened? Arthur can’t imagine how.

***

Arthur finds Gwaine waiting in the library, Merlin by his side.

“I hope you don’t mind, but Merlin should be here for this,” Gwaine says by way of greeting.

Arthur raises a brow, taking a seat on the leather chair across from where the two men sit on the couch.

“Why?”

“Prat,” Merlin says under his breath, and Arthur thinks he must have heard wrong.

“Merlin’s my right-hand-man. He’s the reason our team is so successful.”

“One of the reasons,” Merlin corrects.

Arthur looks Merlin over, wondering what it is about him that’s so special. Merlin scowls at him.

“Merlin has magic,” Gwaine tells Arthur. “He’s one of the few team members who do.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, not expecting that.

“Right. _Oh,_ ” Merlin says a bit sarcastically.

“Merlin,” Gwaine admonishes, “what’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” Merlin mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just get the feeling that Mr. Pendragon is surprised that I have magic.”

“Please, call me Arthur,” Arthur tells him. “And I am a bit surprised, I suppose, since I knew you before…when we were children.”

Merlin laughs without humour. “You didn’t know me at all.”

“Okay,” Arthur pauses, looking at the two men. He doesn’t know why Merlin is so belligerent toward him, but he has business to conduct, and Uther will be calling for an update soon. _Where the hell is Mordred?_

Mordred appears as though Arthur had called to him aloud, tablet in hand, and takes a seat adjacent to the couch.

“Right, my PA will be taking notes during this meeting,” Arthur says. “Gwaine, just how many magic users does The Elite have?”

“At the moment, three. Merlin, Mithian, and Gilly.”

“Three.” Arthur glances at Mordred, who really only holds the tablet and makes adjustments as it records everything said, words appearing on the screen as Arthur talks. “That’s all?”

Merlin sits up straighter. “That not enough for you? First you hate magic users, and now, when you’re in danger, you can’t get enough of us. Figures.”

“No! No, I …why the hell do you take everything I say the wrong way? I just thought The Elite was made up mostly of magic users.  That’s been the rumour, anyway.”

“I would think a man of your standing would know not to believe everything he hears,” Merlin says, and Gwaine nudges his shoulder.

“Hey, he’s on our side,” Gwaine says. “Us against the aliens, right?”

Merlin looks at Arthur as though he wouldn’t mind chucking him over to the alien side, and Arthur again wonders what Merlin has against him.

A knock at the door interrupts them, and Morgana sticks her head into the room.

“May I sit in on this?”

“Of course,” Arthur says. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Morgana greets Gwaine and Merlin before taking a seat next to Arthur.

“I just arrived. I’m just really excited to hear about the magic,” Morgana says earnestly, and Arthur pats her leg fondly.

“Morgana has a bit of magic herself,” Arthur informs Gwaine and Merlin.

“Really?” Gwaine looks interested. “What can you do?”

“Well,” Morgana licks her lips nervously. “I haven’t been able to use it, so I don’t really know the extent…I’ve always done little things, such as lighting a candle, or warming something with my touch.” She glances at Arthur. “I can make a small light, and I can move things--nothing large.”

Gwaine looks to Merlin.

“We could put her with Mithian,” Gwaine suggests. “That is, if you’re interested in increasing your abilities.” He looks at Morgana, who breaks into a large smile.

“Oh, yes!”

“Mithian has abilities similar to yours,” Gwaine tells her. “And she’s a wonderful instructor.”

“Are you sure about this, Morgana?” Arthur asks her.

“Yes, if your father finds out, he’ll likely have your mind vacuumed,” Merlin says thinly.

“What?” Arthur turns on him, incredulous. “Father wouldn’t…”

“Sir,” Gaius interrupts, coming just inside the door. “Mr. King would like to speak with you.”

Arthur rises from his chair. “Excuse me.”

In the hallway, Cenred waits impatiently.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Arthur asks politely.

“Are we to be held prisoner here?” Cenred asks.

“Of course not.”

“Is there a car at my disposal? I’d like to go out for a bit.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Arthur says. “I’m in the middle of a meeting right now, and then I’ll be

speaking to my father. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to provide a vehicle for you.”

Cenred nods curtly. “Shouldn’t I be privy to this meeting?”

“Well, no,” Arthur replies. “The meeting isn’t about Essetir.”

“But it’s about the invasion and the possibility of an impending attack. I feel as Prime Regent of Essetir, I should have a say in what’s going on.”

“This isn’t a strategy meeting,” Arthur assures him. “I’ll inform you when we have one of those. Now, is there anything else I can do?”

“Not at the moment.” Cenred turns and heads back up the stairs. Arthur watches him, feeling the beginnings of a headache take form behind his eyes. With a sigh, he enters the library again. He was telling the truth when he said this isn’t a strategy meeting, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to talk strategy.

“I’d like to talk about your plans to ward off an upcoming attack,” Arthur says, sitting back down. “It stands to reason that Camelot, being at least as powerful as Essetir, will be next on the list.”

“Yes,” Gwaine nods. “We’ve already begun creating a shield using the innovative force field dynamics Will’s created. He’s a right genius—although a little deficient in the personality department.” He winks at Morgana, who grins. “The shield should be ready to put up as soon as we have access to your perimeter codes.”

“I told you magic was only a part of what we do,” Merlin says, as though accusing Arthur of claiming otherwise.

“Do you have any concrete plans as to what you’re going to do, other than create the force field?” Arthur asks, ignoring Merlin.

“We have to know more about what we’re dealing with, first. This isn’t anything like the invasion of 3009 and subsequent war. I’m sure you realize that.”

Arthur does. That invasion had been all about colonization with the intent of killing as many people as possible and taking the rest into slavery. This one seems to be about eradicating life and leaving a distinctive slime over everything.

“We have all the data you requested, but tell me what else you need.”

“Here’s a list,” Gwaine hands Arthur a piece of paper. “Some type of headquarters with technology installed is a must, along with a lab.”

“That’s already been taken care of, although it looks like there are a few things we’ll have to add,” Arthur replies, looking over the items on the list. “I’ll have someone escort you to the building, which is on grounds here.” He looks up at Gwaine. “Will there be anything else for now?”

Gwaine exchanges looks with Merlin.

“No. Morgana, if you’d like, we’ll introduce you to Mithian,” Gwaine offers.

“That would be wonderful,” Morgana replies, getting to her feet.

***

Morgana is exhausted. She’s done everything that Mithian’s told her to, but she can’t get past the most elementary of magic skills. Her hair is in her face, and she’s sweating—something she tries never to do. She stands in the middle of Mithian’s room, frowning.

“Stop scowling, you’ll get it,” Mithian tells her.

“When?” Morgana moans, and Mithian smiles, shaking her head. The next thing Morgana knows, Mithian strips off her T-shirt and track pants and stands in the middle of the room wearing just a tight cotton vest and boy shorts. No bra. Morgana stares.

Mithian is all lean muscles mixed with soft curves in just the right places.

“What are you doing?” Morgana asks, watching the other woman twisting her dark blond hair up into a knot and securing it with an elastic band.

“Getting comfortable. I should have told you to do this before. You can’t really perform good magic unless you’re at ease. At least not the first dozen or so times. Take off your shoes and strip down.”

Morgana looks at her doubtfully, but does as she’s told until she’s standing in the middle of the room wearing only her bra and panties.

“Come here,” Mithian orders, and when Morgana does, Mithian turns her and deftly French braids her dark hair. “There.” She pats Morgana’s shoulders. “You look much more comfortable. Nice arse, by the way.”

Morgana colours. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s limber you up a bit.” Mithian takes Morgana through a few breathing exercises, ending with a soft massage to the neck, shoulders, and back. “Feel good now?”

Morgana rolls her neck. “Yeah. I do.” She smiles.

“Okay, let’s take it from the top, then.”

Things go better after that, and by the time Morgana’s mastered the art of levitating tables, she realizes it’s past midnight.

“Oh, my gosh!” she reaches for her handbag, digging out her mobile. Four calls from Morgause. Morgana quickly dials her back.

“I’m sorry; I got caught up in magic lessons,” she tells Morgause when she answers.

“All this time?” Morgause asks.

“Yes,” Morgana sits on the edge of Mithian’s bed, watching as Mithian straightens up the room. She blushes and looks away when Mithian bends to pick up the pillows, giving Morgana a prime look at her arse and crotch area, barely covered by the grey boy shorts. The two, soft, round globes of her arse peek out of the legs.

“You might as well stay the night, then; there’s ice on the road,” Morgause sighs. “I’ll miss you, though.”

“Same,” Morgana says softly. “See you tomorrow.” She ends the call, standing, suddenly very aware that all she has on is her lacy bra and panties. She looks around for her trousers.

“Partner worried?” Mithian asks.

“Yeah. I forgot to call her and tell her I’d be late. I’m just going to take a room upstairs tonight. Morgause says the roads are icy.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Mithian replies, hands on hips. Morgana eyes skim up to meet hers, avoiding the pert nipples pressing against the cotton of the vest. Mithian’s breasts are small and firm: a perfect handful.

“Are you united?” Mithian asks. “To your partner?”

“No, but we’ve talked about it recently,” Morgana answers. “With all this alien shit going on, though, I don’t see it happening any time soon. I don’t want to be watching for a space invasion while uniting.”

Mithian laughs. “Can’t blame you for that.”

Morgana buttons up her blouse and grabs her bag. “Thanks so much for this,” she tells Mithian.

“You’re very welcome. You’re good, you know, Morgana. You should definitely strengthen your magic. I’d be willing to work with you a few nights a week, if you want.”

Something inside Morgana tells her it might not be such a good idea. She can’t deny she’s attracted to this girl. She and Morgause have been together two years now, and Morgana doesn’t want to ruin things between them. But she can’t turn down the opportunity to learn more magic. She smiles, nodding.

“That would be terrific.”

Mithian smiles back, and Morgana finds the sight of her dimples endearing.

“Goodnight,” Mithian sees Morgana to the door, and Morgana pads barefoot up the stairs, shoes in hand.

On the landing, Morgana bypasses Arthur’s rooms and enters an empty guest room facing the garden. She takes a quick shower and slips into bed naked, definitely not thinking about Mithian and how she looked in that tight cotton vest.


	3. Avalon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has settled into Pendragon estate. Morgana is being tutored on magic by Mithian. Merlin remains hostile to Arthur, although Arthur doesn't know why. Cenred, his sister and brother-in-law, along with two bodyguards, have survived the attack on Essetir by happening to be in the shelter during the attack on their colony. They've come to stay at Pendragon estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't disappointing. I've never tried a futuristic story before.

 

Arthur looks out the wall-to-wall windows of his office at _Pendragon Industries_ at the colony of Camelot spread out before him, life seemingly going on as usual. At the moment, Arthur is very glad that it is his father and not himself who is Prime Regent, for he isn’t sure that he would be able to keep the people calm as Uther is doing; not under the circumstances. With frequent televised announcements, Uther Pendragon assures his people that Camelot is safe from alien attack, and that there have been no further threats to planet Earth.

His face appears on the billboard-sized screens, eyes understanding and face reassuring, and people everywhere stop what they’re doing to pop in their ear buds and look up. Arthur would never be able to do that, because Arthur can’t lie as his father can. The threat of alien attack has never been stronger, and Uther is lying to the people of Camelot about it. Arthur understands why he’s doing it; telling the truth would cause wide-spread panic. But how Uther can look into the faces of those who rely on him and lie outright, Arthur doesn’t know.

Yet, Uther doesn’t appear to have any trouble doing it, just as he makes running _Pendragon Industries_ seem easy. Not for the first time, Arthur wonders how he will ever fill those shoes when the time comes. He wonders if he even wants to.

“He’s doing what he has to do,” Gwaine says from behind Arthur, jolting him from his thoughts.

“He’s lying.” Arthur turns to face Gwaine and finds Merlin there as well, looking disapproving, as usual. Two days ago Arthur looked out the window of his rooms at the estate and saw Merlin and a few members of his team playing a game of football on the back lawn. The smile on Merlin’s face had jolted Arthur. He has never once seen that smile in his presence in the week that the team has been staying at his home.

“He has to,” Gwaine replies.

“And he’s good at it,” Merlin adds, eyes steely.

“We got your message,” Gwaine leans against the door. “Something happen?”

“Have a seat,” Arthur tells them, perching on the edge of his desk. “We’ve had a report from Essetir. They’ve had no luck getting rid of the slimy substance. It simply won’t come loose.”

“Percy hasn’t figured out what it is yet,” Merlin says a little defensively, “but it isn’t from lack of trying. The man has barely slept.”

Arthur nods. “We’ve given him every scientist at our disposal; we can only hope they make a breakthrough soon. My other news is that Christ Hospital in Avalon reports that one of the survivors has come out of his coma. A young boy.”

Gwaine sits up straighter in his chair. “Has he said anything?”

“No,” Arthur folds his hands in his lap. “I plan to fly out to see him tonight.”

“You’re leaving Camelot? Isn’t that dangerous?” Gwaine asks.

Arthur shrugs. “I suppose. Just walking around is dangerous these days. I need to talk to the boy and find out what he saw.”

“But anyone can do that,” Gwaine objects. Beside him, Merlin watches Arthur with hooded eyes. Arthur feels an odd, tingling sensation on his skin and shivers, covering it with a cough.

“Not to my satisfaction,” Arthur replies, and he looks at Merlin, expecting some kind of smart-arse retort, but Merlin remains strangely quiet, his face disconcerted.

“I’ll go with you,” Merlin suddenly says.

“What? What for?” Arthur asks, astounded.

“I don’t trust you,” Merlin replies, and with that, Arthur’s finally had enough.

“Gwaine, I’d like a moment alone with Merlin, please.”

Gwaine looks from one man to the other before standing and leaving the room, closing the door behind him with a sharp _click_.

“So how about you tell me just exactly what it is you have against me, yeah?” Arthur says, narrowing his eyes at Merlin but remaining where he is seated on the desk.

Merlin gets up from his chair and stands before Arthur, forcing Arthur to tilt his chin a bit to look at him.

“Gladly. I don’t like you,” Merlin says, expression hard.

“But why?” Arthur spreads his hands, palms up, on his knees. “What have I ever done to you?”

“Perhaps you should be asking yourself what you’ve ever done _for_ me?” Merlin corrects, surprising Arthur. “What do you really know about me?” He leans forward into Arthur’s space, but Arthur does not move back or act intimidated. Being Uther’s son has taught him that.

“Do you know that my mother struggled my whole childhood to make ends meet while you and your family lived in that monstrosity of a house, waited on night and day by servants? Do you know that my older brother had magic and was taken from his bed one night never to be seen again, and I’d give my left nut that it was your father’s doing?” Merlin leans closer to Arthur so that Arthur can feel his breath, hot on his face. It smells incongruently of peppermint. “Do you know that I used to would have given anything to have you even acknowledge me? That was before I knew what you were, of course.” Merlin looks derisively down at Arthur.

Arthur’s mouth has fallen open during Merlin’s tirade and he shuts it, staring up at the man hovering over him. Merlin absolutely vibrates with anger. The tingling feeling has returned, and Arthur’s mind tells him to dispel the volatile situation, but his heart tells him something quite different.

He shoots up from the desk so quickly that Merlin stumbles as he steps back. “How would I know any of these things? And, while I may not know you at all, you don’t know me, either.”

“I know enough,” Merlin spits, leaning against the chair. “I know that your family hates magic.”

“My sister _has_ magic,” Arthur reminds him.

“Your father doesn’t know that.”

Arthur shakes his head. _No, he doesn’t._

Merlin gives a satisfied smirk. “And why is that, Mr. Pendragon?”

In spite of Arthur’s insistence otherwise, Merlin steadfastly refuses to call him by his given name.

“He wouldn’t approve,” Arthur answers. “You’re right in that. But he isn’t a monster. He didn’t come into your house in the night and take your brother away from you.”

“No, he has men who do that for him.” Merlin stands straight, body lean and shoulders broad, looking Arthur over. “I suppose it’s possible that you can be ignorant rather than guilty concerning the magic, although I’m not sure I believe that. But how ignorant would you have to be growing up not to see the suffering of the people around you?”

“I was a child!” Arthur objects, searching his mind for these clues he was supposed to have picked up. He remembers Merlin and the kitten incident. He remembers Merlin’s pitiful crying over it. How had Arthur felt at the time? It was only an animal. It wasn’t human. But Merlin had kept wailing that it was all alone and dying. Arthur shivers, unable to meet Merlin’s eyes.

“I can’t help it that you hate me and my family,” Arthur finally says, straightening his suit jacket. “But I can assure you there’s no need to risk your life accompanying me to Avalon. I will record my interview with the boy and show it to you all upon my return.”

“And if you don’t return?” Merlin asks. “You’re the son of Camelot’s Prime Regent, Jr. CEO of one of the largest industries on Earth; that blond head of yours may as well be a target.”

Arthur huffs. “Alright, I’ll send you the interview as it happens. Is that good enough for you? Will you stay here?”

Merlin shakes his head, and Arthur feels the odd tingling sensation again, as if thousands of tiny fingers reach out to him, tugging at his nerve endings.

“You don’t understand; I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Merlin’s voice is quiet, but before Arthur can ask what the hell he means by that, Merlin’s in his face again, eyes calculating. “You’re used to having the power, aren’t you, Arthur? How does it feel to rule over others? Do you like it?”

Arthur suddenly finds himself too warm and a bit short of breath. It isn’t just Merlin’s heady physical presence, but it’s the question itself. He feels his face losing its stoic mask against his will, and Merlin tilts his head, gazing at Arthur speculatively.

“Perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you’d like to give it up in one way or another.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Years of practice make it easy to sound hard when what Arthur really feels is vulnerable. Their faces are so close, Arthur can see the flecks of lighter blue in Merlin’s irises.

“How does that PA of yours do it for you?” Merlin asks tauntingly. “Seems you enjoy bossing him around enough. Don’t think I haven’t heard you a time or two. Mithian and Sefa are awful about taking long showers, and I frequently come upstairs to bathe. Some of those spanking sessions you’ve had got quite loud.”

Arthur feels the colour rising from his chest to his cheeks. _Fucking Mordred and his penchant for being punished._

At that moment, Gwaine interrupts, pausing uncertainly when he sees the two men at a stand-off, barely an inch between them.

“Uh, should I go back out?” he asks.

Arthur breaks away first. “No. I’ll be leaving for Avalon at six. Whether Merlin joins me or not is immaterial to me.” He leaves the room. 

He needs some air. _He just needs some fucking air._

Arthur climbs the stairs to the roof, breathing a sigh of relief when the door gives way and he’s hit with a blast of artic cold. Winters are colder every year, and the moon no longer burns as brightly. There’s been speculation that the inhabitants of Earth will have to find a new planet soon.

Arthur’s best mate, Leon, has been away for the past year on an expedition to find that perfect planet. As Arthur looks into the grey skies, he wonders what Leon will return to.

***

Arthur isn’t surprised to find Merlin waiting for him at the airstrip, but he is surprised to find Cenred there with him.

“It is my right as Prime Regent of Essetir to see my people,” Cenred says, and Arthur can hardly argue with him. He makes a quick call to his father, for which he feels a bit foolish, but once he has the go-ahead, the three board the small plane.

Merlin belts himself in as though being Arthur’s copilot is an everyday event, and Cenred goes to sit on one of the seats in the back.

Avalon is situated in what history logs say was once Moscow, Russia, and the flight takes almost three hours. Arthur keeps his mind on flying the plane, and Merlin seems content to watch the radar and monitor the atmosphere with his complicated, hand-held computer. Cenred never comes to the front of the plane.

There isn’t a point in making conversation anyway, Arthur muses; they’d only argue. Arthur can feel the strange tingling sensation he gets every time he’s near Merlin and finds it somehow comforting while flying through the darkness.

Arthur knows they pass over many small colonies, all vulnerable because they lack the protection of a powerful Prime Regent. Their various prejudices and disagreements keep them from banding together, and Arthur wonders if the current alien threat will be enough to change their minds where those in the past have not.

His mind wanders to home, and Mordred, who had pouted at the news of Arthur’s departure. Arthur doesn’t think he was so much worried about Arthur as put out that he’d miss his nightly pleasure. Mordred’s insatiable when it comes to sex, and Arthur’s beginning to find it taxing. It doesn’t escape him that he’s never fully trusted Mordred from the start—insisting that they wear condoms even though testing for STDs is as easy as swiping your hand over a computer screen. Mordred stopped whining about that months ago, when Arthur found Mordred coming out of Uther’s office suspiciously late at night. Mordred insisted that he was delivering the CEO a cup of coffee, but something tells Arthur otherwise.

Sometimes Mordred will bring it up when he wants Arthur to get good and angry when welding the paddle.

“You thought I was banging the old man behind your back, didn’t you Arthur? Sucking his fat cock from under his desk.”

 _Wham!_ The very thought of Uther casually taking what is Arthur’s infuriates him, and Arthur’s brings the wooden paddle with holes drilled through it whistling down on Mordred’s impertinent behind.

“Oof! Straddling him in his leather chair. It’s bigger than yours, you know…the chair, that is. Oof!”

Thoroughly incensed, Arthur smacks that round, white arse until it burns red and tears come to Mordred’s eyes, and then Arthur fucks him senseless.

Mordred always falls asleep after those times satiated and smiling, but Arthur frequently lies awake for hours staring into the darkness, his body’s urges telling him that something is missing.

“There’s something out there,” Merlin says suddenly, breaking the silence, and Arthur’s hands tighten on the controls, his eyes running over the monitors.

“I don’t see anything.”

“My Telroid picks it up.” Merlin tilts the screen toward Arthur. It shows a mass not too far from the flashing dot that Arthur assumes is their plane.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Merlin’s body tenses as he stares at the screen. A second later he reports, “It’s disappeared.”

The remainder of the flight is spent anticipating trouble, but nothing happens.

Upon landing on the small airstrip provided by Avalon’s Prime Regent, Arthur, Merlin, and Cenred disembark to be greeted by a large, dark-skinned man wearing fatigues.

“My name is Dirk. Prime Regent Cross sent me to take you directly to Christ Hospital. She sends her regrets that she cannot meet you yourself, but there are pressing matters to deal with.”

“Thank you, Dirk,” Arthur says, and the three men follow him to the limo where they are served drinks and snacks on the ride to hospital.

The hospital building stands large and looming in the centre of town, its hallways lit and bustling, and Arthur and his companions are immediately pushed to the side upon approaching the nurses’ station. Dirk has to use the authority of the Prime Regent to get them into the secure ward where the eight victims from Essetir are being kept.

Machines monitor their vitals, and Arthur stares at their beeping screens for several seconds before focusing on their faces.

In the first bed lies an old man, his hands wrinkled and spotted against the white sheets. His face and half his hair has been burned off, and bandages obscure most of his features. Arthur scans the other beds, where all the victims look similar in injury.

“The boy is over here,” a nurse says quietly, touching Arthur’s arm, and Arthur turns to find that Merlin and Cenred are already standing by the bed of a small boy wrapped in bandages.

“Has he said anything?” Arthur asks.

“He’s just asked for his mother.”

“Parker,” Cenred leans over the boy. “Parker, can you hear me?”

“You know him?” Merlin asks.

Cenred nods. “He’s the son of my gardener.”

Parker’s eyes flutter open, dark and heavy as stones. They flick over Cenred, and Arthur thinks he sees fear in them.

“You’re safe, Parker,” Arthur tells the boy, moving so Parker can see him. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Parker blinks, and his heart monitor speeds up a little.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Arthur asks him. Cenred is blocking Arthur from getting closer to the boy.

The beeping of Parker’s heart monitor accelerates even more, and the nurse takes a step closer.

“Parker, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but did you see them? The alien beings that hurt you?” Arthur encourages softly.

Parker closes his eyes, his face taking on a look of dread.

“Fuck,” Merlin murmurs.

“Praying,” Parker’s mouth moves, and Arthur leans in closer, excited.

“Praying? Did he say praying?” Arthur looks at Cenred, who nods.

“We’re all praying for you, Parker,” Cenred says, laying a hand on Parker’s shoulder. Parker shudders and is quiet. Cenred’s fingers curl along Parker’s thin shoulder, running up to his neck, and Arthur is a little surprised at the gentleness of the man; he hadn’t expected Cenred to be such a caring leader. From all Arthur’s heard of Essetir, it isn’t the happiest of colonies.

“He needs his rest,” the nurse tells them.

“If he should say anything about the attack, the tiniest detail, it’s very important that you write it down and contact me right away,” Arthur instructs her.

“Yes, sir,” the nurse replies. Arthur turns and looks over the other patients. There are two more children, two women, and two middle aged men. “Do you expect any to make it?”

The nurse shakes her head. “It would be better for them if they don’t.”

Cenred stands. “As their Prime Regent, I have the authority to order euthanasia.”

Arthur looks at him, shocked. “You can’t do that! They’re the only ones who have any information about the aliens who attacked!”

“They’re suffering,” Cenred replies stoically.

“Are they?” Arthur asks just as a physician walks into the room.

“I believe I can answer that,” the man tells them. He’s short, with caramel-colored skin and wire-framed glasses over dark eyes. “I’m Dr. Nadu.” He shakes the hands of each of the three men.

“Are these patients suffering as they are now?” Arthur asks him.

“No, not with the drugs we’re administering. But they can only be administered for so long without harming them. Each of these people have suffered much internal as well as external damage.”

“You see…It would be humane of me to order euthanasia,” Cenred says.

“At least wait a few days,” Arthur pleads. “They may come round with information vital to the survival of others.”

Cenred looks back at the patients’ sleeping faces before nodding. “All right.”

They follow the physician out into the hallway, where he lists their injuries for them. “We believe the extensive burns must have come from the ship, he finishes. “I’m told these victims were all found in the same area.”

Arthur nods. “Well, if there are any changes, please contact me. We’ll have dinner in your cafeteria before heading home.”

The doctor smiles. “Avoid the macaroni and cheese. Not the best.”

Arthur realizes that Merlin hasn’t been with them and catches sight of him slipping out of the patients’ ward. He smoothly joins the rest of them as they start toward the elevators, bidding Dr. Nadu goodnight.

Arthur starts to ask Merlin what he was doing lingering with the victims, but the tingling fingers are back again, touching his nerve endings and making him ultra-aware. He remains silent. Cenred appears to be brooding, as well he might after seeing eight of his people in such horrific condition. Arthur expects the man must feel some guilt for having escaped when so many others did not.

They don’t talk much while eating, and Merlin continually checks his Telroid. Arthur texts an update to his father, sending a copy to Gwaine before pushing his tray back and announcing they should head back.

“Bad weather is headed our way. Lots of snow.”

The other two men nod and they prepare to leave.


	4. A Finding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell how much interest there really is in this, but I'm happy to see a few readers enjoying it. I appreciate your comments. Here's another chapter.

 

That night, safely back home with Mordred snoring softly beside him, Arthur dreams of Merlin and the kitten. Merlin’s sobs are heartbreaking. The teachers keep the group of five-year-olds away from the sink hole, but Merlin strains to get free.

“He’ll die down there!” Merlin sobs. “Someone has to get him out! You can’t just leave him down there where it’s dark and cold!”

And then Uther is suddenly in front of Arthur, towering, telling him in that voice that instills fear that they have to leave. Arthur sees someone carrying Merlin away, still crying, small fists pounding the man’s shoulders.

Merlin’s eyes meet Arthur’s.

“You! It’s your fault. You did this! You’re killing him!”

Arthur wakes up in a cold sweat.

He moves closer to Mordred in the large bed, seeking the warmth of another body. Mordred pushes back against him, murmuring appreciatively, pressing his arse to Arthur’s groin.

It figures that Mordred can’t just spoon like other people; he has to turn every physical contact into sex.  Arthur can’t help but get hard and doesn’t protest when Mordred drapes his leg back over Arthur’s hip, inviting him to slide inside his well-lubed arse.

Arthur moans on the slide-in, gripping Mordred’s hips firmly.

It’s fast and sloppy, but good enough to help Arthur forget his dream and go back to sleep.

***

“Arthur, I’m learning so much!” Morgana says with obvious pride. Her eyes flash gold, and the lights go out, plunging them into darkness.

“Wow,” Arthur praises, “that’s brilliant, Morgana.”

Morgana laughs her melodious laugh. “Isn’t it, though?”

“Would you mind turning them back on? I have paper work to do.”

“Oh, certainly.” The lights come back on, and Arthur blinks down at his desk and then at his computer which has begun the process of restarting.

“Sorry about that,” Morgana sighs. “I hope you didn’t lose any of your work.” She leans over Arthur’s shoulder to look at the latest reports. “Any head-way?”

“They’ve found something in Essetir.”

Morgana raises a brow. “Really? Do you know what?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I’m waiting for news from Father.”

“Are you ready to call it a day, darling?” Morgause appears in the doorway to Arthur’s office, and Morgana leaves Arthur’s side to greet her.

“Yes, I’m starved. Let’s go out for dinner.” She kisses Morgause and wipes her lipstick off the other woman’s mouth with her thumb.

“Arthur, would you like to join us?” Morgause asks politely.

“No, I want to be here when the report comes in. Thanks, though.”

“Don’t stay too late,” Morgana tells him, and Arthur nods, watching them go.

It’s quiet enough for Arthur to hear a vacuum running somewhere in the building, the sound a muffled hum. It’s barely seven, but pitch black outside other than the dim moon and a smattering of stars. Uther recently enforced black-outs at night, and Arthur has forgotten to close his shades. He rises to do so.

He’s just shutting the last one when Will enters his office.

“I brought coffee,” he says, setting a cup on Arthur’s desk.

“Thanks,” Arthur takes it. He’s spent a bit of time with Will over the past week going over data, and finds the man intelligent but difficult to get to know. Arthur gets the feeling that Will is wary of him, but Arthur’s gotten so used to the heavy distrust emanating off Merlin, so he barely notices it.

“Cenred is getting very itchy to have access to his colony again,” Will says conversationally. He takes a seat across from Arthur’s desk and sips his coffee.

“Just what exactly does he plan to do there?” Arthur asks. “The place has been decimated and covered in a slimey goo.”

Will shrugs. “Dunno. Seems the type that likes to stand there looking all important, surveying his kingdom. Good riddance, I say. He’s pacing your mansion like a caged lion. Looks like he’d like to eat the rest of us. You’d best watch your boy toy, by the way. Cenred’s been looking him over.”

Arthur frowns. “If you’re referring to Mordred, he is not my boy toy. He’s my PA.”

Will lifts a brow.

“All right, he _is_ my boy toy,” Arthur grumbles, “although I think boyfriend might be a better term to use.”

Will actually laughs. “Okay, boyfriend, then. Still, watch out for Cenred.”

“Duly noted.”

Arthur’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it.

“The report’s in,” he tells Will, and they both stand.

“Conference room A,” Arthur leads the way.

A large group gathers in the conference room, including Arthur’s father, and they mill about the huge table, talking and helping themselves to the box of danishes someone put out. Arthur is immediately stunned to see a familiar ginger head among them.

“Leon!” he cries, practically pouncing on him and drawing his friend into a heart-felt embrace. “When did you get back?”

“Last night,” Leon grins at him. “I heard what was going on here and had to return.”

Arthur squeezes Leon’s arm. “It might have been better if you hadn’t. Safer, I mean.”

“Arthur, if my friends are in danger, I have to be here.” Leon’s eyes shine with sincerity, and Arthur hugs him again.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers in his friend’s ear, and Leon hugs him harder.

“I’ve spent the last month in Eir.”

“The planet of women?” Arthur asks, smiling. “That must have been difficult for you, considering your proclivity for men.”

“Horrendous,” Leon admits, looking around. “Speaking of which, who is that bloke dressed all in black?”

Arthur turns and looks to where Will stands getting water from the cooler.

“Name’s Will Young. He’s with The Elite.”

“Ah, the magical group that’s going to save us all.”

“Something like that, although only a couple of them actually have magic,” Arthur states.

“Nice arse,” Leon says, staring at Will, who suddenly turns and catches him at it. Leon smiles and Will scowls. “Ah, a feisty one.”

“Very,” Arthur agrees. “This is hardly the time to be thinking about sex, Leon.”

“Really? I thought it the perfect time—world coming to an end and all that.”

Arthur shakes his head at his friend. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting a report? What’s the hold up?” He looks to where his father stands huddled with two of his advisors and, Arthur’s surprised to see, Percy Johnson. Arthur wonders if Percy’s managed to come up with something concerning the slime.

“Father?” Arthur says loudly, and Uther looks up. Arthur has never seen him so distracted. He seems to have forgotten there are others in the room. He recovers quickly, though, and calls the room to attention.

“Now that my son is here, we can begin.”

Everyone takes a seat at the large table, Uther standing at its head.

“Our team in Essetir has sent its most recent findings, and I’m afraid to say they collaborate with what the head scientist of The Elite has just shown me.”

“Afraid?” Arthur asks, frowning.

“Yes. Percival, would you mind?”

Percy nods and looks at the faces around the table. “It has been determined that the slime covering Essetir is some type of modified plasma exudate.”

When no one seems to comprehend his meaning, Percy clarifies, “A lubrication such as a woman produces before sex. It’s a friendly environment for fertilization.”

A chill runs up Arthur’s spine. “Did you say fertilization?” Arthur asks.

“You mean the aliens creamed on us?” Will asks crudely, and Arthur and Leon exchange looks, Leon hiding a smile of amusement.

Uther clears his throat. “Last night officials in Essetir reported a bright light hovering over the entire colony. This morning something odd appeared in the, er, gel substance covering it.” He picks up a remote control and presses a button. On the screen behind him projects an up-close photograph of a viscous, clear fluid. “This is the substance as it was earlier, here shown covering the ruins of a building.” Uther presses a button on his computer and the photo changes. “And this is the way it looks now.”

There are gasps around the table. The goo is riddled with hundreds of white globules, the entire substance reminding Arthur of the tapioca pudding his nanny used to feed him.

“What are they?” Someone asks, mesmerized.

“They’re eggs,” Percy replies grimly.

“Holy fuck,” Leon murmurs.

“Eggs?” Will says loudly. “As in alien eggs? They’ve laid their fucking eggs on our planet?”

“It seems so,” Uther replies grimly.

“Oh, my God,” Arthur breathes. “Can we kill the eggs? Sterilize them?”

“Have they even been fertilized?” Will asks.

“Working on it,” Percy replies. “And the answer to that question is we don’t know. We’re waiting for a sample, but no one seems to be able to dislodge an egg from the slime in order to send it to us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my lab.”

“You can drive back with me,” Arthur offers.

“Arthur, a word,” Uther says, and Arthur follows him into an adjacent room. Uther closes the door.

“Under no circumstances is this information to leak out to the public.” Uther’s face is firm.

“Of course, Father.”

“Every man and woman in that room is required to sign documents agreeing on that. The Elite will all be updated, but if this leaks out…there will be mass hysteria.”

Arthur nods. “I understand. Father, has it been determined whether the shields will be able to keep them out?”

“No. There’s no way of knowing, since we have no idea what species we’re dealing with.” Uther looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and Arthur can relate. His own sleep has been interrupted by constant nightmares.

“Knowing that they lay eggs should narrow down the field,” Arthur replies. “I’m sure our scientists, along with The Elite, will have some answers for us soon.”

“What can The Elite do with their---magic?” The word seems to catch in Uther’s throat, making him force it out of his mouth.

“Gwaine says the magic will come to play in combat, if it comes to that. Otherwise they use it in various ways in their daily jobs.”

Uther’s jaw clenches. “I never thought I’d allow magic here in Camelot. These are desperate times, Arthur, but don’t trust them. Magic users are inherently evil. You need to realize this.”

“What? Father, no.” Arthur stares at Uther in disbelief. He knows Uther doesn’t approve of the use of magic, but _evil_?

“That’s simply not true,” Arthur states, and Uther’s face becomes so red with rage that Arthur takes a step back.

“It _is_ true, Arthur! You haven’t lived as long as I have and seen what I’ve seen. I’m telling you that magic is the essence of evil, and if it wasn’t the death of Camelot…of Earth…we’re talking about, I never would have agreed to this. It sickens me that my own son is under the same roof as magic users, but I need you there. Just be careful.”

Uther turns and walks out, leaving Arthur standing with his mouth hanging open.

***

“I’ve brought Morgause along with me,” Morgana tells Mithian, who’s turned soothing music on in her room and dimmed the lights for their magic exercises.

“Hello,” Mithian smiles, taking Morgause’s hand. “Morgana’s told me so much about you.”

“All good, I hope,” Morgause smiles.

“Oh, yes.” Mithian dimples. “And she mentioned that you weren’t sure you wanted to stretch your latent magic skills, but perhaps you’ve changed your mind?”

Morgause looks uncertainly at Morgana before turning back to Mithian. “I’d like to try. I’ve used mine even less than Morgana has over the years.”

“I’m sure you’ll be brilliant! Let’s get to it, then.”

Two hours later, all three women are exhausted and lie on pillows spread about the floor.

“That was amazing, Morgause! You’re so talented,” Morgana says, caressing her girlfriend’s cheek. Morgause leans into the touch.

“No, it wasn’t that great. I got lucky.”

Morgana laughs. “It took me three days to be able to lift something that large! And you set fire to the curtains!”

“Fortunately I was able to put them out,” Mithian smiles. She turns and crawls to the small refrigerator in the corner. “Drinks?”

“That would be wonderful,” Morgause groans, lying back and fanning herself with her hands.

Mithian hands them each a bottle of water. “This is imported from Ran,” Mithian says, looking at the label. “I’m impressed.”

“Nothing’s too good for my father,” Morgana tells her. “He wouldn’t be caught dead drinking water from a spring on Earth.”

Morgause laughs and nods her head. “That’s Uther, all right.”

“What about your brother?” Mithian asks. “Is he like that, too?” She sits cross-legged on the floor, her back perfectly straight, small breasts molded by her grey vest. Morgana can see the tips of Mithian’s nipples through the material.

“Oh, no, Arthur’s much more down to earth.”

“I thought as much,” Mithian replies. “I’m a little surprised by his choice of boyfriend, though.”

“Oh, Mordred’s just a hanger-on,” Morgana says. “He’s attached himself to Arthur, and Arthur’s temporarily mesmerized by his cock-sucking skills. It’ll fade.”

Mithian laughs and lies back on the pillows, her wavy hair falling about her face. She looks at Morgana and Morgause with a soft expression.  Morgana thinks her mouth incredibly kissable looking. “I wish I could find what you two have.”

“You prefer women, then?” Morgause asks, sipping her water.

“Yes, definitely. But the team travels so much, I rarely have a chance to meet anyone.”

Morgana shifts her eyes away from Mithian, who looks like a ripe peach waiting to be picked, only to find Morgause staring at her. Rather than be jealous, Morgana finds herself turned on.

“I think,” Morgana says a little hoarsely, “that I’ll go take a shower.” She stands. She’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, having dressed comfortably for her training sessions ever since the first one.

Morgause looks up at Morgana. “Oh…well, I guess I’ll join you.”

Mithian smiles up at them. “Good work tonight, ladies.”

They smile at her, and Morgana leads Morgause down the hall to the large bathroom. It’s late, and the shades have all been drawn for the blackout.

“She’s very pretty,” Morgause comments as she slips out of her yoga pants and shirt. Morgana helps her to unhook her bra, pushing the long trail of Morgause’s blonde hair over her shoulder. The pink bra falls to the floor, and Morgana cups Morgause’s heavy breasts in her hands a moment before moving to turn on the shower.

“Don’t you think so, Morgana?” Morgause asks.

“What?” Morgana looks over her shoulder. “That Mithian’s pretty? Yes. She’s quite lovely, actually. Too bad she doesn’t have time to meet someone special.”

Morgause murmurs agreement, reaching to help Morgana off with her T-shirt and bra. Morgana shimmies out of her shorts and the two women step under the spray.

Morgana hums as Morgause soaps up Morgana’s hair, scratching her scalp with her fingernails.

“That feels wonderful,” she says, arching into the spray, the needle-like droplets teasing her sensitive nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” Morgause leans down and bites Morgana’s neck, causing her to cry out. “I wish I had my strap-on; I’d love to fuck you right now.”

Morgana turns and they kiss, all tongues and lips. She grasps Morgause’s arse, pulling her close, their breasts smashing together. Soon they’re grinding together, pleasure spiraling up Morgana’s spine as she wraps a bare leg around Morgause’s waist and Morgause penetrates her with a finger.

It doesn’t take long for them both to come, and they quickly wash off and get out of the shower, wrapping large, fluffy towels around themselves.

Mithian meets them in the hall coming out of the other bathroom, a robe around her small frame. “I just got a call from Percy. He says they’re going to put together a team to fly to Essetir to look at the eggs, since they can’t seem to isolate one for testing. I’m going to request to be a member of that team.”

Arthur comes out of his rooms, buttoning his shirt. “I need to talk to Gwaine.”

“About Essetir?” Morgana asks. “You’re not thinking of going?”

Arthur passes her, taking the stairs two at a time. “Of course I am,” he calls over his shoulder.

He finds the entire group downstairs. As usual, Arthur gets a mixture of disdain and discomfort from Merlin, but he stands beside him anyway and addresses Gwaine.

“I want to go with the team you send to Essetir.”

Arthur expects Gwaine to resist, but to his surprise, the team leader nods assent.

“We’ll need someone in power there, just in case we run into some resistance,” Gwaine tells him.

The tingles are back, and Arthur looks over at Merlin, who keeps his gaze studiously averted. “I’ll go, too. You’ll need a magic-user, and I can help Percy with the samples.”

“I really want to go,” Mithian says, coming down the stairs in hastily-donned clothes. “Please, Gwaine.”

Gwaine sighs. “I suppose the expedition can use a xenoarcheologist. Percy will have to go, too, of course. Anybody else?”

“I might be of some help.”

Arthur hadn’t realized that Leon was in the room. Arthur invited him to stay at the mansion as long as he liked, not having an apartment to go home to.

“Why is that?” Gwaine asks. He met Leon earlier, but only for a moment.

“I’ve done extensive traveling through the galaxies. I might recognize something.”

“I’ll need to collect the data,” Will adds. “And you never know when you might need a telepath.”

Arthur looks at Will with interest. “You’re a telepath? I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not something I advertise,” Will says, glancing at Leon. “Pervert,” he whispers, and Leon grins.

Gwaine types into his pad. “That should be plenty, then.”

“Wait…” Morgana comes running down the stairs, buttoning her blouse. “I want to go.”

“Morgana…” Arthur begins.

“Don’t you dare say you want me to stay here,” Morgana tells him. “There’s no reason I can’t go, too; and my magic abilities could be of some help. Particularly the intuitive dreams--I have to be close to something in order to stimulate them.”

Arthur stares at her. He wants his sister at home, safe, but is home really safe anymore? He nods at her, and she smiles.

“All right, that’s seven of you. We’ll take Gwen as medic, and I’ll pilot the plane, making nine total. Elyan will be in charge here in my absence.” Gwaine tells them, glancing at Elyan. “We’ll set out first thing in the morning. Everyone get some rest.”


	5. Essetir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late for work: hope this isn't riddled with errors!

Breakfast is early, and Arthur eats quickly. Cenred made a scene late the night before when he found out about the expedition, but Gwaine steadfastly refused to allow him to accompany them.

“There is absolutely nothing you can do there,” Gwaine told Cenred firmly when the Prime Regent planted himself before him and demanded that he be allowed to go.

“It’s my colony!” Cenred argued.

“Yes, and it’s gone,” Gwaine says flatly. “Wiped out completely. You saw it when you came out of that shelter; there’s nothing there anymore, Cenred, and you’ll just be in the way. Stay here with your sister.”

The look Cenred gave Gwaine could cut glass.

Arthur’s relieved that Cenred won’t be going. He doesn’t like the man, and he’s not sure he trusts him. As far as Arthur knows, Cenred’s unaware of what’s going on in Essetir at the moment and is under the impression they’re going merely to explore and take samples.

“Cenred may try to get in your pants while I’m gone,” Arthur told Mordred earlier as he got ready to leave.

“Jealous, Arthur?” Mordred asked, running his hands over Arthur’s bare back.

Arthur turned around and looked Mordred in his deceivingly innocent blue eyes. “If you want to fuck other men, you’re free to do so. Just don’t do it while you’re with me.”

Mordred flung his arms around Arthur’s neck. “Why would I want another man when I have you in my bed, hmm? You have nothing to worry about.” He kissed Arthur before letting him go. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll go back to the flat while you’re gone.”

“Yours or mine?” Arthur asks, knowing the answer.

“Yours, silly! Mine’s just a hole in the wall.”

“You can stay here; I don’t care.”

And Arthur doesn’t. There’s a part of him that wouldn’t mind coming home to find Mordred in Cenred’s bed—it would give him an excuse to end things. He sighs.

“Eggs not any good?” Merlin asks, leaning toward him over the table, and Arthur startles, looking up from his plate where he’d been pushing them about with his fork.

“Somehow eggs don’t hold the same allure as they used to,” Arthur says wryly, earning an almost-smile from Merlin. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Worried about the expedition?” Merlin raises a brow.

“Would you care if I were?” Arthur asks, meeting his gaze.

“Touché. Just a little surprised that you’re going, really.”

“Why is that?” Arthur asks. “I want to see first-hand what’s going on.”

“It’s going to be dangerous.”

“I’m not a coward.” Arthur gets up from the table and goes to the hall, unzipping his ruck sack and looking through it, making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Merlin follows him.

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” Merlin says. “I know you were a commander in the last war. But here it’s different.”

Arthur swings around. “And just exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

Merlin looks Arthur straight in the eye. “It means I have no doubt you’ll stand up against just about anything, except when it comes to your father.”

“You know,” Arthur makes a disgusted face, “you keep acting like you know me and my family, but you don’t. And I don’t see you giving my sister the cold shoulder…is it because she has magic? She’s one of you? She’s a Pendragon too, you know. Or are you bigoted against non-magic-users?”

“Hardly,” Merlin gives a harsh laugh. “And your sister could be as guilty as you are, for all I know. What I do know is you’ve stood by for years while your father has committed his cruel acts. You’ve become his shadow—his molded image ready to take over when he dies. You’ve never raised a hand to stop him. I have nothing but disgust for you.”

Arthur is flabbergasted. He feels like Merlin is talking about someone else entirely. What has Arthur ever done to him? What has Uther done, exactly? Arthur didn’t even know the full extent of his father’s feelings about magic users until the day before.

“Just because you grew up without money and we didn’t give you charity doesn’t make us evil,” Arthur tells him, and the word _evil_ echoes back in his ears. _“Magic users are inherently evil, Arthur.”_

“We didn’t want your charity,” Merlin spits out.

“Then what did you want? How could I have helped you?”

“Showing a little humanity would have sufficed.” Merlin’s high cheeks are red as he stands rigid before Arthur, fists clenched at his sides. “Even at an early age. You acted as though nothing touched you.”

Arthur is about to exclaim that he has no idea what on earth Merlin is going on about, when Gwaine announces it’s time to go. He turns away from Merlin, following the group out the door and into the cold morning.

***

“Come on, what am I thinking now?” Leon teases Will.

Will stares at him. “That’s digusting.”

Leon grins wolfishly. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!”

Arthur turns to look out the window of the plane at the clouds coating the sky like a misty carpet. His blood’s still boiling over his argument with Merlin, who sits a few seats away, ear buds in his ears and eyes shut.

It rankles that Merlin’s so negative about the Pendragons, who have always been an upstanding family in Camelot, even before Uther became Prime Regent. He’d been on the city council and held a place of prestige in the schools system. It was because of Uther that the school both Arthur and Merlin went to was well-funded and had exemplary teachers. And didn’t it say something that Uther sent his children to the public schools rather than have them privately tutored? Sure, they’ve always had money, but Arthur seems to remember his father giving freely to charities over the years. He’s never been stingy. So what the fuck is Merlin on his high horse about?

As though Merlin can feel Arthur’s thoughts, he glances over his shoulder. His look is grudging, as though he’s being forced to keep an eye on Arthur, and Arthur wonders if Gwaine ordered it for some reason, although Arthur can’t imagine why. There’s no way Uther would ask such a thing; he’s steadfastly avoided communicating with members of the group, Percy being the one exception.

Morgana has spent the entire flight up front talking with Gwaine as he flies the plane. Arthur knows she wants to be a member of The Elite, and a part of him rebels against it. Another part of him, the part that knows what it’s like to be stuck under Uther’s thumb, applauds her efforts.

Gwen naps, an electronic book in her lap, while Mithian and Percy talk earnestly about the aliens. Arthur tunes it all out, turning to look at Merlin again when he gets that tingling feeling he’s almost grown accustomed to now.

After a moment, Merlin abandons his ear buds and music with a sigh and comes to sit beside Arthur, staring at him balefully.

“What?” Arthur asks. “Ready for round two?”

“Believe me, I’d rather ignore you altogether, but my magic feels differently,” Merlin replies, leaning back in his seat.

Out of all the things Merlin could say, Arthur wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“Your magic? What do you mean?”

Merlin sighs. “For some inexplicable reason, my magic likes you.”

Arthur assesses Merlin from his dark, disheveled hair; sharp, high cheekbones and gloriously blue eyes; to his pillow-plump lips, broad shoulders, lithe body and long legs. Arthur feels tingly again, but this time in a different way.

He doesn’t know what to make of Merlin’s magic liking him when Merlin so obviously doesn’t.

“You make it sound like your magic is another entity entirely,” Arthur says. That’s never been the impression Morgana’s given him about her magic.

“In some ways, it is,” Merlin tells him. “When we aren’t in sync about something, it lets me know in no uncertain terms.”

“And you aren’t in sync where I’m concerned,” Arthur clarifies.

“Right,” Merlin says.

Arthur leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, perhaps your magic is a better judge of character than you are.”

“Or it’s easily swayed by a fit body and charming smile,” Merlin returns caustically.

Arthur grins. “You think my smile is charming?”

“No, _my magic_ does.”

“Are you certain? It sounded to me like _you_ think I’m fit and charming,” Arthur says smugly, and Merlin lets out a disgruntled sound. They stare at one another, and Arthur thinks if it’s a staring contest Merlin wants, Arthur can easily win it.

Morgana walks through the doors dividing them from the cockpit. “Gwaine says to put your seatbelt on; we’ll be landing shortly.” She sits down next to Arthur, reaching for the belt and glancing between her brother and Merlin.

“What’s with all the eye-fucking?”

Arthur and Merlin simultaneously break eye contact to stare at her.

“What? We’re not… _Morgana_!” Arthur splutters, and Morgana laughs.

“Say what you will, but that’s what you were doing,” she says lightly, snapping her seatbelt closed and leaning back. She motions with her hand for them to do the same.

Arthur finds he can’t look at Merlin again and stares out the window instead.

Essetir is a wreckage of burnt-out buildings and crumbling walls, much of it covered in the tapioca slime Arthur saw in the photos.

“We need to find a place to make headquarters,” Gwaine directs first thing after landing, and they set out.

Arthur can’t believe the devastation before him. The bodies of Essetir’s residents have been taken away, but the desolate remains of life abruptly stopped are haunting.

“What about the shelter?” Will suggests as the head toward the Prime Regent’s mansion adjacent to the airfield. One half of the stately home is sunk in, making it look a bit like a pumpkin past its prime.

“Brilliant idea,” Gwaine tells him, finding a path free of the lumpy slime. Arthur can’t stop staring at it and the odd, murky globules it holds inside . Knowing that they are aliens waiting to hatch makes his skin crawl.

They find the shelter without much problem as the debris around it has been cleared away. The group stores their rucksacks and takes inventory.

“They certainly were well-supplied,” Gwen comments, looking at the pantry of vacuum-packaged foods. “They have a medical kit here, as well as a communicator that seems to work.”

“I still can’t get over Cenred just happening to be touring the place with his family and body guards when the attack occurred,” Gwaine comments, and Will huffs.

“Yeah. A bit too much of a coincidence, I think.”

“But he couldn’t possibly have known,” Percy says.

“Do you think he had a warning system of some sort?” Mithian asks.

“We’ve been over this a dozen times,” Merlin sighs. “We just don’t know. I don’t trust him, but we don’t have any proof.”

“My men have thoroughly examined the shelter,” Arthur assures them. “There’s nothing here.”

“Let’s set out, then,” Gwaine sighs after a cursory look around. “We’ll divide into groups. Percy, who do you need with you for the samples?”

“Mithian and Gwen will do,” Percy answers.

“I’ll help, if that’s all right,” Morgana offers, and Percy nods.

“Then the rest of us will just see what we can see.”

They leave the underground shelter, the brightness of the winter sun dimmed by the heavy smog hanging over the place. There’s an odd smell to the atmosphere, and Arthur comments on it.

“We’ve been assured that the air is safe, but you’re right; it does stink here,” Gwaine replies, and the others agree.

Gwaine and Arthur break off from the others and explore a few buildings, finding nothing but obvious signs of how quickly the attack came on: a table still set, a chess game in progress. The damage is hit-or -miss—some buildings demolished while others are practically untouched. Yet everyone had been killed. Arthur knows from the reports that most of the victims were ripped apart and half-eaten. He shudders involuntarily.

“Agreed, mate,” Gwaine says, noticing. “Creepy as hell.”

After several hours of walking and finding much the same thing everywhere they look, Arthur and Gwaine meet back up with the others, who appear a bit shell-shocked.

“It looks like a massacre happened in the town centre,” Mithian tells them. “No bodies, of course, but the blood splatter’s still there.”

Arthur’s stomach clenches. He’s seen war, and he’s seen death, but he never gets used to it. In a way, he hopes he never does.

“I’ve been examining the substance,” Percy tells them as they walk back to the shelter. “I managed to scrape a bit off to look at under the microscope I brought with me.”

“Good,” Gwaine replies as they descend through the trap door into the shelter.

“This looks edible,” Will says, going through the pantry and pulling out a bag .

“Yum, cold stew,” Leon says without enthusiasm.

“Not cold for long.” Merlin’s eyes burn gold and Will drops the bag of food, which has become suddenly hot.

“Oi, Merlin, give a guy a warning!” Will picks up the vacuum-sealed bag by its corner and deposits it on the counter.

“Sorry,” Merlin grins, and Arthur’s stomach flutters at the sight of it. Merlin’s smile is intoxicating.

It isn’t long before the team sits at the small, square table eating stew from the bowls they found stored in the cupboard. Arthur hadn’t thought he was so hungry, but it’s later than he realized and they’ve skipped lunch.

“I’m going above to have a smoke,” Will announces, pushing his bowl away. Once a mild plant similar to tobacco but without its harmful effects was discovered on a neighboring planet, smoking lost its health risks. This occurred a couple of hundred years before Arthur was born, and he remembers being fascinated in school by the tales of how people willingly poisoned their bodies just to smoke a cigarette.

“I’m knackered,” Morgana yawns. The girls have made up a bed in the corner, and she casts a longing look at it.

“Go ahead and turn in,” Mithian laughs. “We all will, soon enough.”

Morgana smiles, relieved, and heads that way.

Percy helps clear the table and gets his microscope out, and Arthur watches for a while as he stares into it.

Merlin gets out a deck of cards, and he, Gwaine, and Leon play a game until Leon stands and heads outside.

“Moon looks sick to me,” Will comments when Leon takes a seat on the ground beside him. “I remember it being brighter when I was a kid.”

“It was,” Leon confirms.

Will glances at him, taking a drag. He offers the cigarette to Leon, who takes it. “I hear you’ve been looking for a habitable planet. Any luck?”

“A few possibilities,” Leon replies, blowing out a stream of smoke and handing back Will's cigarette.

He leans back and stares at the sky. “I’m always wondering if this will be the day the world ends.”

Will looks down at him. “Nice. Is this a pick-up line?”

Leon laughs. “You’re the intuitive. What do you think?”

Will takes another drag before flinging his cigarette away. He leans over Leon and brushes over his mouth with a finger. Leon brings his tongue out to lick it.

“I think you’re probably not going to shut up until I give you what you want.”

Leon surges up and takes Will’s mouth with his, nibbling at Will’s lower lip until he moans.

“You know you want it, too.”

Will grabs hold of Leon’s face, taking control of the kiss. “Fuck, I do,” he murmurs into it.

To their left there’s a noise like a firecracker going off, and both men jump.

“What the fuck?” Will shouts, scrambling over Leon and watching the place where he’d thrown his cigarette. The two men wait a moment before crawling over to inspect the area.

“Guess it would’ve been too much to ask for it to have burned the shite up,” Will says, staring at where the slime has ejected the cigarette, exploding it in mid-air.

Suddenly, a loud noise from above has them both looking skyward, where a bright light shines in the west, growing bigger by the second.

“Holy hell,” Will whispers.

“Get in the shelter,” Leon orders. “Now!”


	6. Fertilization

“Something’s happening!” Leon shouts to the others as soon as he and Will are safely in the shelter with the door secured.

“What?” Gwaine drops the cards he is holding, and he and Merlin scramble to their feet just as a loud buzzing noise permeates the air above them.

“What the hell is that?” Arthur breathes, tilting his head upward. The buzzing becomes louder as the roof of the shelter seems to glow.

“Fuck!” Gwen, startled out of sleep, unconsciously clutches at Morgana, who sits paralyzed beside her.

“Arthur?” Morgana says shakily, and Arthur moves to sit with her, putting his arm around her shoulders. He’d love to be able to reassure her, but he has no idea what’s about to happen.

A couple of tense minutes later, and it’s over. Gwaine scrambles for the door, opening it a crack and peering out. After a moment, he throws it open completely.

“I don’t see anything,” he says, holding out his environmental gauge and sweeping it over the immediate area. “There’s a reading, though. Different than before.”

Merlin climbs up behind him, peering over Gwaine’s shoulder to see the small screen.

“A life reading,” he says.

Arthur tightens his grip on Morgana’s shoulders and feels her shudder.

Gwaine climbs out, followed by Merlin and Percy. They spend several moments taking readings before giving the all clear for the others.

“Whatever it is that’s giving the reading, it’s hiding itself well,” Gwaine tells them.

“I think I know what it is,” Percy says, and they all turn to where he’s crouching. “It’s the eggs.” He looks up.

“What do you mean?” Gwaine asks.

“They’ve just been fertilized,” Percy tells them, standing up. “I should have realized when they didn’t give a reading before, but not all eggs do, depending on the density of their walls.”

“You mean to say Leon and I just missed being spermed by those fuckers?” Will asks, incredulous.

“Looks like it,” Percy replies.

“How long do you think before they hatch?” Gwaine asks what everyone’s been thinking.

“I have no way of knowing. Gestational periods range from weeks to years according to the species,” Percy says, staring around him at the globules. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on them and see how rapidly they grow. I need to find a way to isolate a few to take back to Camelot. I found some in the shade earlier that seemed to be less cohesive. I’ll take a look at them again tomorrow and see if I can break any away.”

Gwaine nods, and the group descends back into the shelter.

Later, Arthur lies listening to the others sleeping, the quiet interrupted only be Percy’s intermittent snores. The make-shift bed is uncomfortable, and Arthur doesn’t sleep well in the best of circumstances. Obvious fumbling noises and heavy breathing catch his attention, and he opens his eyes, searching the room lit only by the power lights on the various electronics until his eyes light upon the corner where he can just make out Leon and Will snogging, their shadows merging on the wall as they roll about. A soft moan and a low chuckle, followed by some wrestling and a grunt, and the shadows begin to move rhythmically. Arthur stares, transfixed as it becomes apparent that Will is topping Leon.

Arthur rolls over, turning his back to the couple. From everything Leon’s ever said during inebriated conversations on sex, he’s always been a top. Like Arthur. Arthur isn’t sure why the idea of Leon bottoming bothers him, but somehow it niggles at him, making Arthur think of Mordred and lovers he’s taken in the past. It isn’t jealousy; Leon is like the brother Arthur never had. It’s more like a feeling of betrayal…as though Leon’s broken the rules in some way.

Arthur hears the barely-muffled sighs of completion from behind him just before he finally drifts off to sleep.

***

Arthur spends much of the following morning taking photos of the area and sending them back to his father, where he sits surrounded by his council. Uther texts back questions, most of which Arthur can’t answer. Uther’s been in a state of extreme alarm ever since getting the news of the fertilization, and insists the team not return without eggs.

“As if we would,” Arthur mumbles to himself with a sigh, staring out over the bleak atmosphere. He’s beginning to hate Earth. He’s found himself wanting more and more to get away from it and its signs of depletion. It’s a planet used up long ago by greedy humans, leaving nothing much of beauty. Why the aliens want it, Arthur has no idea.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Leon’s voice startles Arthur so that he visibly jumps.

“Sorry, mate,” Leon puts his hand on Arthur’s arm, smiling. “Why so glum?”

“Oh, I don’t know…gestating aliens all over our half-dead planet, maybe?” Arthur says irritably. “Why the hell are you so happy? I wouldn’t think post-coital bliss would last so long.”

Leon makes a face. “Heard that, did you?”

“Heard and saw, thanks very much.”

Leon has the decency to colour. “Sorry. A bit of pent-up need there. We were interrupted earlier.”

Arthur looks down at his boots, thinking. “Uh, can I ask you something?” His voice is uncertain.

“Sure,” Leon says easily.

Arthur meets his eyes, embarrassed. If it were anyone but Leon, he couldn’t do it.

“You let him top…”

Leon raises his brows but doesn’t say anything.

“I thought…I thought you didn’t bottom, that’s all,” Arthur says.

“And you think less of me for it?” Leon asks, but there’s humour in his tone.

“No!” Arthur denies, surprised. “I’m just…curious, that’s all.”

Leon chuckles. “Let’s just say my travels have cured me of being purely a power top.” He pats Arthur’s shoulder. “You might want to try it sometime; you don’t know what you’re missing.”

***

Merlin tires of watching Percy trying to dislodge eggs all morning. His magic seeks out Arthur, and Merlin indulges it long enough to locate the blond commander standing several meters away talking with Leon before turning and heading for the shade of a half-standing building in the distance, cock beginning a slow throb in his pants.

Annoyed beyond measure, Merlin curses, feeling his magic retreat deep inside him.

Like most magic-born on Earth, Merlin’s bloodline comes from the planet Heka, whose inhabitants inseminated Earth women by the thousands when they first landed on Earth three hundred years ago. Merlin also inherited his keen knowledge of science from these ancestors, along with his strong-will.

Make that former strong will.

Ever since Merlin came to Camelot, he’s been plunged into confusion. Not only has he had to face his enemies from the past, the Pendragons, but he’s had to deal with the odd and completely unexpected attraction he has for Arthur Pendragon. It’s not only Merlin’s magic, but his body’s urges that confound him, causing him to be surly and uncommunicative. It’s been driving Gwaine crazy, but Merlin is powerless to do anything about it, because he doesn’t understand it. And that in itself is infuriating for someone as logical-minded as Merlin.

Merlin has gone his entire life with practically no sexual urges at all. He’s always figured it’s something he inherited from his paternal grandmother from Artemedia, and he’s never been bothered by it. But ever since he stepped into the presence of Arthur Pendragon, Merlin’s body has gradually blossomed into a constant state of need. All the prat has to do is make an appearance, and Merlin’s rock-hard and filled with a sexual aggression that frightens him in its intensity.

Merlin has no idea what to do with this, particularly coupled with his long-felt resentment of Arthur’s family.

The Pendragons have been a dark splotch on Merlin’s memories for as long as he can remember. If he had his way, he wouldn’t even breathe the same air they breathe. At the same time, he’s filled with an overpowering desire to fuck Arthur Pendragon into the ground, to put his mouth on every part of his incredibly fit body. It just doesn’t make sense.

Merlin leans back against the cold walls of the building and thinks of Uther Pendragon, cold and calculating—completely uncaring. Merlin’s researched him over the years and learned that a few months after Arthur’s birth, Uther’s wife, Igraine, ran away with a man from Heka. A magic-user. A year later, she died. Merlin supposes that’s where Uther’s hatred of those magic-born comes from—from all accounts, Uther had been madly in love with the woman who’d born him two children before betraying him.

The fact that Morgana has magic must mean that there’s Hekanian blood in her family. Merlin wonders if Arthur fully realizes this. Uther will not react well to that news, and Merlin can only hope that, for Morgana’s sake, the siblings keep their father in the dark about her powers. Could it be that Igraine cheated on Uther and Morgana isn’t his child at all?

Will has told Merlin that he intuits nothing evil where Arthur’s concerned. Still, Merlin has trouble trusting Arthur, who has been with his father all along, since the very first memory that soured Merlin’s young life.

Merlin feels his magic stirring inside him and looks up from where he sits huddled against the inner wall of the building.

“There you are.” Arthur’s voice cuts into Merlin’s thoughts. “Gwaine sent me to find you.”

“Well, you have,” Merlin says, getting up and dusting himself off. His cock twitches in his pants. He almost feels as though he can _smell_ Arthur. Or maybe it’s that he wants to smell him. All over. Bury his nose in those hidden places…tie him up with magic and lick every particle of skin.

“Lunch,” Arthur says simply.

“What?” Merlin asks, mouth dry.

“Lunch,” Arthur repeats. “It’s ready.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.”

Merlin watches Arthur swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing in his tanned throat. “So…is that your magic I feel?”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asks, avoiding looking into Arthur’s earnest blue eyes.

“That pull whenever I’m around you. The tingling sensation.”

Merlin considers. He’s never had his magic reach out to someone before. “I guess it is. It reaches out to you.”

“I wonder what for?” Arthur muses.

The earth shudders underneath them, and the two men look at one another, alarmed.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur voices for the both of them. It shudders again, this time more violently, and Merlin topples forward, falling against Arthur, whose back hits the wall.

The next shudder of the earth brings a smattering of debris over their heads.

***

Morgana puts the last bowl of food on the table. She helped to warm them all with her magic, and the remnants of it still tingle in her fingertips. Mithian smiles that unguarded smile of hers, and Morgana finds herself blushing like a school girl.

Being around Mithian so much has brought Morgana’s attraction for the woman to a head. She knew it would happen, of course, but she couldn’t keep herself from the magic lessons or the prospect of joining the team. She knows Mithian is attracted to her, too—the way she brushes by her, looks at her sometimes. Every nerve ending in Morgana’s body is alive with the knowledge.

The room suddenly shakes.

“Oh, my God!” Morgana breathes, looking at Mithian.

It shakes again, sending two bowls clattering to the floor, their contents spilling everywhere. Morgana falls back into a chair.

Mithian grasps the edge of the table and teeters over to Morgana and another tremble, more violent than the first two, sends her reeling onto Morgana’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Morgana asks.

“I don’t know,” Mithian answers. The two women hold onto one another tightly, waiting to see what will happen next.

Another rumble, and things begin to fall from the shelf behind them. Pain rips through Morgana’s head and shoulder, and everything goes black.

 

 

 

 


	7. Trapped

“Merlin? Merlin, answer me!” Arthur pulls another piece of debris off Merlin’s prone figure and lays a hand against a pale cheek. Dust covers Merlin’s hair, causing the black to appear almost grey.

At Arthur’s touch, Merlin’s eyes flutter open.

“What happened?” he asks hoarsely before coughing and wincing with pain.

“Be still,” Arthur says, removing more debris. The shaking has stopped, and an eerie quiet has settled over Essetir.

Merlin moves his leg and lets out a groan.

“I told you to be still!” Arthur snaps. “You don’t follow orders very well, do you.” He removes the last bit of fallen plaster and begins feeling Merlin’s bones, beginning with his left foot.

“I’m fine,” Merlin says, trying to pull away.

“Shut up,” Arthur grumbles, continuing what he’s doing. The room is dim, windows blocked by the cave-in. Arthur’s already seen that the entrance to the building is replaced by a pile of rubble higher than his head. He wonders what’s happened, if the others are okay. He concentrates on what he’s doing, feeling each of Merlin’s bones in turn, searching for a break.

When Arthur nears Merlin’s hip bone and Merlin gasps, Arthur zeroes in on the area, digging into flesh and moving his fingers over bone. He doesn’t feel a break. He glances as Merlin’s face, which is beet red and turned away from him. Arthur looks back down, puzzled until he sees that Merlin is sporting a sizable erection in his pants, the outline of his piercing visible against the thin material.

Arthur’s cock immediately fills with blood. He clears his throat, averts his gaze, and continues his examination, moving upward on Merlin’s body, palpitating his flat belly and then sharp ribs, moving up to his collar bones and shoulders. Arthur can feel Merlin’s magic tugging at him, urging him to move closer, and he resists. Merlin’s breathing heavily, and Arthur isn’t sure if it’s from injury or something else.

“Where does it hurt?” Arthur asks.

“M-my back,” Merlin answers after a moment, still not looking at Arthur.

Arthur bites his lip. He’s afraid to move the other man.

“How badly do you think it’s injured?” Arthur asks.

Tentatively, Merlin moves first one arm and then another, testing. He pulls  up a knee, winces, then pulls up the other. He raises his pelvis an inch off the floor.

“I think it’s just sore, but I might be bleeding. It feels wet.”

“Hold on,” Arthur gets up from where he’s been kneeling on the floor and looks about for where Merlin might have dropped his communicator. He doesn’t see it. He steps over crumbled brick and rummages about, managing to find a few things that might be helpful.

When he returns to Merlin, Arthur makes him a pallet and helps him to roll over onto it so that he lies flat on his stomach. The back of Merlin’s shirt is bloody and stuck to his skin. Arthur takes it by the collar and makes a rip, then a larger one, yanking the material until he can pull it away from Merlin’s back altogether.

Merlin makes a hissing noise as the cloth pulls away from his damaged skin. Arthur looks down at the expanse of Merlin’s back, strong muscles tapering down to lean waist. It seems wrong to feel such strong attraction during such a dire situation, but Arthur does; he wants to touch Merlin everywhere.

Arthur reaches for his knap sack which he’d been carrying when the building caved in and pulls out a bottle of the expensive water his father insists on importing. With a twist of his wrist, he opens it and pours a good amount over Merlin’s back.

“Ah! Fuck, you could have warned me!” Merlin grumbles over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmurs, thoroughly cleaning the area with the water. “You have several cuts, but none look too deep. He unbuttons his own shirt, removing it, and then pulls his soft, white T-shirt over his head. He presses the clean shirt to Merlin’s wounds, his eyes moving upward to the word tattooed between Merlin’s shoulder blades.

_Benny._

Arthur wonders who Benny might be. A lover? Jealousy, hot and unexpected, wells up in Arthur’s chest.

“Can I roll over now?” Merlin asks.

“No,” Arthur answers, reaching into his sack for the first aid kit. “Hold still.”

Arthur deftly applies ointment and bandages to Merlin’s cuts, spending a little more time than he needs to smoothing them down, his fingers lingering over Merlin’s exposed skin, feeling the magic simmering just beneath it. The want he feels is so strong, Arthur’s momentarily dizzy with it. Glancing over Merlin’s back, he’s surprised to see Merlin grinding his hips into the ground.

With shaky hands, Arthur reaches down, palms hovering over the tempting round orbs of Merlin’s arse cheeks. With a growl, Merlin swings around, grabbing Arthur by the wrist.

Their faces are inches apart, and Merlin’s eyes blaze.

“What are you doing?”

Arthur’s momentarily paralyzed, hands still open. Sparks seem to fly from the place where Merlin’s fingers grip the tender flesh inside Arthur’s wrist.

Arthur licks his lips before speaking, and Merlin’s eyes follow the motion.

“I—I don’t know, honestly.”

Merlin’s chest heaves as though from exertion. Arthur runs his eyes over the broad expanse, the pale skin and smattering of dark hair that almost hides the delicate nipples. He sees that Merlin is similarly eyeing him and hopes he doesn’t come up lacking. This is new to Arthur—he’s never been unsure of his own attractiveness before.

Merlin digs his fingertips into Arthur’s wrist, drawing his attention back to Merlin’s face.

“Let’s get something straight right now,” Merlin says. “If something happens between us, and I’m not saying it will…but if it does…”

Arthur’s heart beats so loudly, he can barely hear Merlin’s words over the blood rushing in his ears. He holds his breath.

“What?” he says when Merlin doesn’t continue.

 Merlin suddenly throws Arthur’s arm down like it burns him.

“Nothing, because nothing’s going to happen.”

Arthur blinks. Having this conversation at this time, when they are trapped and don’t know what’s going on outside, is crazy. But it’s also inevitable. He can’t fight it.

“You want me. I feel it.”

“You don’t understand,” Merlin says furiously. “I…I don’t. I can’t.” He groans, and Arthur glances down to where Merlin’s cock pushes at the confines of his pants. He takes a breath, listening.

All is still perfectly quiet around them. He wonders what has happened to the others, and why he can't summon up more than a casual amount of worry over it when it should be his main concern, not this man and his magic. Arthur suddenly can’t breathe properly.

“You can’t…fuck?” Arthur surprises himself by asking cheekily.

Merlin growls. “Of course I can fuck! What the hell? It’s just I don’t want to fuck you!”

Arthur smirks. “You’re lying.” He glances meaningfully down at Merlin’s bulge, and Merlin scrambles to his feet.

“We’ve got to get out of here, and you’re talking about fucking.”

Arthur swallows, looking around at the darkened room, debris everywhere. “They’re going to have to dig us out.”

Merlin half-heartedly removes several pieces of brick and plaster from the mound blocking their exit before placing his hands on his hips and sighing.

He turns around and stares at Arthur with a look so predatory, Arthur is immediately wary.

“I ought to fuck you,” Merlin says.

“Who says anything about you fucking me?” Arthur asks unsteadily, although the thought of it sends his blood humming through his veins and his cock surging upward in the confines of his trousers. “I do the fucking.”

“Not with me, you don’t,” Merlin tells him, advancing. “In fact, this may be the perfect way to erase you from my mind altogether. You’ve been driving me crazy ever since I got here. My magic wants you, and it’s not going to shut up until it has you.” Merlin takes a step forward and tilts his head. “I think you need to be fucked, Arthur Pendragon. I think you were made for it.”

Arthur thinks maybe he should be insulted rather than turned on as he is. His eyes get wide, but he schools his features. He won’t be taken that easily. _That easily?_

“Go to hell.”

Merlin laughs, and Arthur’s momentarily mesmerizes by the sound and sight of it. He gets to his feet, muscles tensing as Merlin comes closer.

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin says, “your arse is mine.”

“Fuck that,” Arthur says, then realizes his mistake when Merlin’s eyes gleam.

Merlin reaches forward, grasping Arthur behind the neck and pulling him forward in a swift movement that brings their lips together before Arthur even realizes what’s happening.

The feel of Merlin’s hot mouth on his is intoxicating, and Arthur immediately opens his lips, accepting the sweep of tongue before remembering he’s supposed to be resisting. He pulls away.

Merlin jerks him back and it becomes a physical match until Merlin latches his mouth onto Arthur’s neck, and Arthur stills, breathing hard, body alive with sensation.

Merlin’s hand moves between them to run over the outline of Arthur’s hard cock, making it leak. All around them, dust settles in the weakening light that barely sifts through the cracks in the fallen debris. Arthur sucks in a breath when Merlin’s finger touches the head of Arthur’s cock through his clothes. He suddenly very much wants to see Merlin’s long dick again with that gleaming piercing at the end. He reaches and fumbles with Merlin’s trouser zip, bringing it down before managing to undo the button.

He shoves Merlin’s fatigues to his knees and stares down at the white jock covering the bulge. There’s a wet spot on it, and Arthur suddenly has to taste it. Falling to his knees, he presses his mouth to the material, enjoying the hiss of surprise that ushers from Merlin’s lips. Long fingers entangle in Arthur’s hair, tightening as Arthur runs his mouth along the outline beneath the jock strap, hands coming up to cup Merlin’s bare arse, Merlin’s magic edging forward to tickle Arthur’s nerve endings.

When Arthur’s lips encounter the piercing, desire shoots through him, and he groans.

“Yeah, gonna fuck you with that, Pendragon,” Merlin pushes his groin into Arthur’s face, and Arthur breathes it in, heady at the scent. He’s never been so turned on. “Pin you to the ground and cram my dick so far inside you, you’ll taste it in your mouth.”

Arthur groans again, beyond caring anymore. He wants it. God how he wants it. Everything that Merlin’s saying.

“ _Merlin! Arthur_!” Gwaine’s faint call barely permeates Arthur’s lust-fogged mind. He grips Merlin’s arse harder, but Merlin pulls away.

“Maybe not now,” Merlin promises. “But soon.” He turns to call back to Gwaine.


	8. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. When I got home to all the comments, I knew I was in for it! Nice hearing from all of you, though. :)

 

“Are you sure you’re all right, Merlin?” Will asks, watching as Merlin takes a seat at his desk.

The team made a hasty retreat home as soon as everyone was rescued. Elyan looked over the entire team immediately upon their landing in Camelot and sent Morgana to hospital with a concussion. She’s since been released and is recovering at home while the rest of the team’s gotten back to work trying to fortify Camelot’s defenses.

Percy’s taken his container of eggs and isolated himself in the lab, two of _Pendragon Industries’_ scientists with him. No one has been able to figure out just exactly what caused the tremors in Essetir; the best guess being it was the earth trying to reject the hormones of the newly fertilized eggs.

“I’m fine,” Merlin answers. “I ought to be asking you how you are. That’s a nasty cut on your head,” Merlin reaches out to touch it, but Will bats his friend’s hand away.

“It’s healing. The scar’s going to look sexy, you’ll see.” He narrows his eyes at Merlin.

“So, what’s your problem lately, mate? I know you don’t like the Pendragons and everything, but I told you Arthur’s okay. I don’t detect any of the shite that I do when I’m around Uther, and according to Leon, Arthur’s top notch.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Well if _Leon_ says so, it must be true.”

Will sighs, ignoring the jab at Leon. “You spent some time stuck in that collapsed building with Arthur. He bandaged you up. Seems like he’s been right nice to you, considering what a wanker you’ve been to him.”

Merlin glares at Will. “You don’t know the whole story!”

“I’m listening,” Will says, leaning his hip against the desk.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

It’s Will’s turn to roll his eyes. “Well, I know what part of it is, because the sexual tension’s been rolling off you thick enough to drown us all. At least Leon and I know how to take care of that. We don’t waste our time with the cow eyes.”

“I am not making cow eyes!” Merlin argues.

Will laughs. “Might as well be. You’ve had a burr up your arse since we got here. You want Arthur something fierce, Merlin, and it’s killing you because you’re used to being a limp dick.”

Merlin huffs, turning away and pretending to read a file. “Go away. I’m busy.”

“That’s upside down, mate,” Will says, and Merlin throws the file down.

“Would you just mind your own business?”

“No,” Will answers, smiling. “This is just too good. For years you’ve been acting all superior because you don’t have to listen to your ‘other head,’ as you put it. Now it seems your cock’s taken a liking to Arthur. Wonder why that is?”

Merlin sighs, defeated. Will is never going to give up. He turns around and plants his elbows on the desk.

“All right, already.” He looks at his friend. “It’s not just that I want him; it’s my magic, too. And it would have to be Arthur bloody Pendragon, son of my arch nemesis. Fuck my life!” Merlin buries his face in his arms.

“It’s not as bad as all that, Merlin,” Will tells him. “Arthur’s not his father.”

Merlin shakes his head, not lifting it from the cradle of his arms. “He might as well be. He’s been with him the whole time, being groomed to take his place one day. How could he not know what Uther’s done? One incident in particular haunts me, and we were only kids…” Merlin lifts his head up, leaning back in the chair with a sigh.

“Fuck, Will. I don’t even know how to handle how much I want him. You should have seen me in that collapsed building…I went all cave man on him, and I meant every word of it. It’s like he’s meant for me. But then I remember that day years ago on the playground.”

“What happened?”

Merlin tells him, haltingly, and when he’s finished, Will shakes his head.

“I’d always wondered about that tattoo.” Will looks at Merlin with empathy before continuing. “But Merlin, Arthur was only a kid. And Uther’s the one to blame.”

“Arthur was there. Later, he acted as though it was nothing! I even heard him say a couple years later that sometimes things like that just couldn’t be helped.”

“That was a long time ago. If it bothers you so much, talk to him about it.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I can’t bring myself to. If my magic didn’t reach out to him like it does…if he didn’t feel so perfect for me…”

“Well, maybe he is,” Will says thoughtfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin asks.

“Your Artemedian heritage. I mean, they weren’t all about chastity and abstinence.  They did mate, and when they did, it was for life, right? Isn’t that what that symbol on your ring means?”

“The turtle doves, yeah,” Merlin says, idly twisting the silver ring around his finger. “What exactly are you suggesting, Will?”

“That perhaps you’ve found your Prince Charming, that’s all.”

Merlin’s horrified. “What? Come on! You’ve got to be kidding me! Just because he’s fit and I’m attracted to him doesn’t mean I want to mate with him for life! You’re off your nut.”

Will leans forward. “Let’s get the facts straight, here. Arthur’s the only person in your whole life you’ve ever been attracted to. Your magic adores him, and even when you’re busy hating him, it’s with emotion so strong, you can’t think straight. Sounds special to me, mate.”

“You’re cracked,” Merlin says, getting up and pacing the room.

“No, you are if you don’t stop fighting this.” Will pats Merlin on the back and goes to his desk to get some work done. “And stop being such a tosser. A lesser man than Arthur would’ve punched you in the gob by now.”

Merlin walks outside and lights a cigarette. All he can see in his mind’s eye is Arthur kneeling in front of him, face buried in Merlin’s groin, blond hair soft between Merlin’s fingers.

He groans.

He wants to hate Arthur, he really does. But he can’t anymore. It’s impossible to hate the man, because he’s strong, and noble, and kind.  When they got home from Essetir, Arthur broke up with Mordred, and Merlin can’t help but feel it has something to do with Merlin…that that moment between the two of them meant something to Arthur.

It meant something to Merlin, too.  He’d had to admit that to himself right away. It had been powerful the way Arthur fought him, all the while giving Merlin the distinct vibe that he wanted to submit. And the very thought of Arthur submitting makes Merlin throb in his pants.

And how is it that no matter how awful Merlin is to the prat, Arthur’s still around, and still nice to Merlin, and still looking at Merlin with those _eyes_? Eyes that are one moment snapping with anger and the next burning with desire.

Merlin shudders with need.

The sound of voices raised in anger from below the balcony attracts Merlin’s attention, and he looks down to see the object of his thoughts standing on the patio facing off with his father. Uther makes a dismissive motion with his hand and walks away, and Merlin sees Arthur’s mouth thin out before he stalks off in the opposite direction.

Without thinking about it, Merlin stubs out his cigarette and heads down the steps leading to the patio. His magic pulls him toward Arthur, but this time Merlin himself wants to be with him, too.

***

Arthur knows, he just _knows_ , his father is hiding something. And it infuriates Arthur. He has put his entire life into his father’s hands; done everything Uther has ever told him to do, and Uther isn’t being up front with him? It isn’t to be borne.

And when Arthur confronted Uther about it, Uther was patronizing and insulting, telling Arthur he’s imagining things and shouldn’t take everything so seriously.

Furious, Arthur clenches his fists and stalks toward the woods, breathing in hoarse pants as he walks faster and faster, trying to burn off some of his anger with the exercise.

That morning, Arthur had seen Cenred leaving Uther’s office wearing an odd smile on his face. When Arthur had asked Uther about it, Uther skirted the issue, and Arthur had had enough. He told his father that if he wasn’t going to be kept apprised of everything that went on in the company, he didn’t want to be Jr. CEO.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur. I wasn’t even talking to Cenred about company business. What’s got you so worked up? Is it your relationship with that young man—your PA? I’ve been told you’re on the outs with him.”

“Of course not! My personal relationships have nothing to do with work!” Arthur denied.

“See that they don’t,” Uther replied, before walking off with George. Arthur realized too late that his father had successfully distracted him from the subject at hand.

When Arthur brought it up again moments ago on the patio, Uther actually laughed.

“You’re like a dog with a bone when you suspect there’s something you’re not privy to,” he said.

“Arthur, I’ve given you The Elite to keep an eye on. I think that’s plenty of responsibility, don’t you?”

“Father, I don’t trust Cenred,” Arthur told him, and Uther put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“I’ll worry about Cenred, Son.”

If Uther had said “Run along and play,” after that, and swatted Arthur’s bottom, Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised.

He stops in the middle of the woods, winded, and looks around. How far has he walked? The mansion is no longer in sight, and the trees have grown dense. With a roar of anger, Arthur turns and punches his fist, hard, into a tree trunk. He hears a crack and rears back, pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulder.

“Mother _fucker!_ ” Arthur yells, grabbing his fist and gasping for air. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses again.

“One should always choose something with a bit of give in it when punching out of anger,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Arthur whirls around, face contorted in pain.

“Fucking hell, where did you come from?” Arthur asks Merlin through waves of agony. He cradles his hand to his chest, fighting the tears that want to spring up in his eyes.

“Followed you,” Merlin replies. “Here, let me see.” He holds out his hand, and Arthur looks at him suspiciously before placing his hurt hand in Merlin’s upturned palm. Merlin steps closer and gently examines it. “You’ve broken several bones.”

Arthur nods unhappily. “Thought as much,” he says through clenched teeth. He raises his eyes to Merlin’s. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Merlin gently turns Arthur’s hand over and whispers a few words. Arthur gasps as he feels his bones knitting back together.

“That was the oddest thing I ever felt,” he says, flexing his hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Merlin smiles a little shyly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Arthur says. “You’re being nice to me.”

“Well,” Merlin answers, “I thought it was about time. I don’t suppose you deserve all the venom I’ve been spewing at you.”

Arthur smiles slyly. “Sure it isn’t because you want to get in my pants?”

“Oh, I definitely want to do that,” Merlin tells him. “But that isn’t why. I had a little chat with Will, and he pointed out that I’m being a right wanker.”

Arthur nods. “You really are.”

“And you’ve put up with it,” Merlin adds.

“There’s just something about you, Merlin,” Arthur tells him. “Otherwise, I’d have punched you in the face long ago.”

“That right?” Merlin grins.

They stare at one another for a moment before Arthur turns toward home. “We’d better get back. I don’t want to be out in the woods after dark.”

Merlin walks beside him, and Arthur wonders at the change in the man. He’d just about despaired of Merlin ever being friendly with him, although Arthur knows he wouldn’t have stopped trying; he’s felt an affinity with Merlin from the beginning, and though it hasn’t made a lot of sense, it’s strong enough to keep Arthur coming back.

“I saw you arguing with your father,” Merlin says lightly as they walk.

“Yes. It’s an everyday occurrence,” Arthur replies.

“Why do you stick around then? If you don’t get along?”

Arthur considers this. “Family’s always been important to me. It’s all I’ve ever known—being groomed for the business, that is.”

“And you’ll run it just like your father?” Merlin asks. It’s a loaded question, Arthur can tell.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly, and Merlin doesn’t say anything more.

When they reach the dining room, most everyone is gathered. Arthur’s glad that Mordred’s left the mansion. Arthur told him to pack up his things at Arthur’s flat and move out. He’s made arrangements to have Mordred moved to the accounting department at work and has requested another PA. Mordred didn’t take the break-up very well, throwing a few things at Arthur, including a very expensive vase. But Arthur knew even before Merlin kissed him that he was done with his relationship with Mordred. It had run its course.

Now that Merlin has kissed him, though, Arthur wants more of it. The thought makes him nervous, because Arthur knows that he wants everything that Merlin promised him and more. It confuses him, this desire to be taken by a man, and Arthur is more than a little afraid. He’s been raised to take charge, and he does so in all aspects of his life except where his father is concerned. Arthur runs his department, he runs his charitable causes. He’s captain of his footie team and has taken his father’s place as head of the school board. And he’s done it all with an even temper and a soft touch most of the time He’s always topped every lover he’s ever had and never, ever even considered letting them top him.. But the idea of it has always been in the back of Arthur’s mind, a flame smoldering, just waiting to be ignited.

When Arthur saw Merlin in the bathroom stepping out of his jock strap, he knew he wanted to be topped by him. Merlin’s words in the abandoned building told Arthur that Merlin feels it, too.  But the thought of actually letting it happen terrifies Arthur.

He glances at Merlin out of the corner of his eye, catching Merlin looking at him, too. A warmth spreads throughout Arthur’s loins. It will just be a matter of time.


	9. Conflicted

Arthur only has a few minutes before his father will be back. He opens drawer after drawer, uncertain of exactly what he’s looking for, just knowing that he’s looking for something.

When he doesn’t see anything unusual in his father’s desk, he moves to the small closet in the corner of the room. Grabbing his briefcase, he uses it to acquire the extra couple of inches he needs to reach into the far recesses of the top shelf and…voila! His fingers encounter smooth, cold steel. Arthur pulls it forward, revealing a strong box. Quickly, certain he can hear his father’s footsteps, Arthur takes the box and shoves it into his briefcase, closing it up and just managing to throw himself into a chair before his father appears in the doorway.

Their meeting is brief and consists mainly of Uther hounding Arthur on information about The Elite. For some reason, the Prime Regent has trouble believing that so few of the members have magic, although Arthur has assured him of it again and again.

“Magic users are born liars,” Uther tells him. “They manipulate and hide using their magic.” His eyes narrow, seeming for a moment to see inside Arthur’s very soul. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at that one fellow, Arthur. Merlin Emrys. Just because I’m not present in the house doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on.”

Ice cold replaces the warmth in Arthur’s veins.

“You’re different around that man, Arthur,” Uther tells him. “I believe you’d do anything he tells you to. You know why, don’t you?” Uther leans forward. “You’re just like your mother…susceptible to magic.” He stands abruptly, disgust making his normally handsome features suddenly ugly. “I thought you were stronger than this, Arthur.”

Arthur feels the beginnings of the old panic set in. He isn’t good enough. He’ll never be good enough for his father. But this is new…He’s been corrupted somehow by his mother’s blood. Tainted. He licks his lips, wanting to hear more, but not wanting it.

“Igraine was a beautiful woman,” Uther tells him, looking out the window at the smog hanging over Camelot. “You got that from her, too. But she was weak. She left me for a magic-user, and she paid for it with her life.” He turns and stares at Arthur, eyes burning red around their murky irises. “If you aren’t careful, Arthur, you’ll have the same fate she did.”

Arthur shudders, looking away, his spine ramrod straight as it always is in his father’s presence.

“Dismissed, Arthur.”

Arthur takes his briefcase and walks slowly to his office, locking the door behind him.

All his life he’s trusted his father. His father has always told him that magic is evil. His mother fell to its powers. Now Arthur finds himself utterly under the spell of a magic-user himself.

Arthur looks down at the strongbox in his briefcase. He’d had every intention of breaking into it. Now he doesn’t know.

A knock on the door startles him.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Freya Montgomery. HR sent me over…I’m your new PA.”

Arthur closes his briefcase and walks to the door, unlocking it. He opens it to find a small woman with large, dark eyes and an uncertain smile.

“Yes, Freya. Come in. There’s plenty of work to be done.”

***

Merlin isn’t imagining the coldness that’s been emanating off Arthur the past few days, but Merlin’s been too busy to do anything about it. Percy’s told them that the alien embryos are growing at a steady rate, and Merlin’s been in charge of trying to destroy one of them; so far without success.

He’s tried fire, extreme cold, weight. Needles won’t pierce the elastic skin of the egg. They’re seemingly indestructible, and with every failed attempt that goes by, Merlin becomes increasingly frustrated.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Merlin asks Will when his friend enters the room after a lunch break. “And why do you look like you’ve just been shagged?”

“Because I’ve just been shagged,” Will replies, putting on his glasses. “Had lunch with Leon, and in between sandwiches, I sat on his cock.”

“Nice,” Merlin grumbles. “Fucking world’s coming to an end, and all you can think about is cock.”

“You’re just mad because you aren’t getting any,” Will taunts.  “Still antagonizing Arthur rather than shagging him?”

“No,” Merlin shoots back, sounding like a belligerent child even to his own ears. “I made nice, just like you suggested. Only now Arthur’s avoiding me.”

Merlin shifts uncomfortably, his cock rising at the mere thought of Arthur. “Gods, Will, I’m going crazy, here. My whole life without sex…not even wanting it. And now it’s all I can think about. I want that man so badly I can taste it, and I can’t fucking have him!” Merlin slams his fist down on the table.

“Hate to say this, mate, but I think it might be better if you don’t have him,” Will surprises Merlin by stating.

“What? But you’re the one…”

Will comes around to stand in front of Merlin. Placing a hand on each of Merlin’s shoulders, he looks into his eyes. “Your anger at Arthur for what happened to Benny is only going to get in the way. You can’t shag the man with that between you, don’t you see?”

Merlin looks away, the memory of that day flooding his senses. Will squeezes his shoulders.

“Either talk to Arthur about it, or get over him, Merlin,” Will says. He lets go. “Now let’s see what we can do about destroying this fucking egg.”

***

Arthur’s spent the past hour staring at the strong box. It’s very late; everyone went home hours ago. Arthur’s tired, and every time he thinks about getting up, his body just sinks farther into his leather chair.

Finally, he stands. Who’s he kidding? He’s never going to break into the box; he trusts his father too much. This is the man who single-handedly raised him after being betrayed by his wife for a magic-user. Uther’s had so much heart-ache in his life, yet he rose above it all. He took Arthur everywhere, showed him the inner-workings of Camelot with pride, groomed him to take over.

Arthur can’t disappoint him.

He’s ashamed that he even took the strong box from Uther’s office. He has to get it back into the closet now, before another moment goes by.

Arthur stands, taking the box in his hands. Before he can think any more about it, he leaves his office and walks down the hall to Uther’s suite. The inner lobby is empty, George’s desk tidy and his computer shut down. Arthur rounds the corner leading to Uther’s private office, and is surprised to see a dim light coming from the cracked door. He freezes, the strong box clutched in his hands.

Uther’s voice from inside the room causes Arthur to turn quickly, ready to retreat, but then he hears something else. He stops dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder and hears it again. Turning, Arthur moves closer, edging the door open just enough so that he can see inside.

And there is Mordred, naked and doubled up on Uther’s huge desk, legs thrown over Uther’s shoulders as Uther plows into him, and Arthur hears the noise again—Mordred’s breathy, laughing voice urging Uther on, asking for more.

Sickened, Arthur backs away, box still clutched between his hands.

Of course, there’s no real reason Uther can’t have Mordred now that Arthur’s through with him. Arthur has no doubt Mordred’s been flirting with the CEO. He takes a breath, trying to calm his turbulent feelings.

Uther’s voice rumbles from inside the office.

“Take it, boy. I’m much better than that son of mine, aren’t I? What do you think about having a real man in you? Liking it? Yeah, I can see you are…”

Arthur walks swiftly back to his office, shoves the strong box into his briefcase, and heads for home.

  
***

“Morgana, you could use a few days more of rest,” Morgause says, watching Morgana put her clothes out for the next day.

“If I stay home another day, I’ll go crazy,” Morgana tells her. She finds the shoes she wants and places them on the chair before taking off her robe and crawling into bed beside Morgause. She presses her naked body against her lover’s, tangling he fingers in Morgause’s long, blond hair and kissing her pliant mouth.

Morgana’s been feeling guilty about the things she’s felt for Mithian, and she’s trying to make it up to Morgause by showing her extra attention. Morgause has been so good to Morgana while she’s been laid up with a concussion—waiting on her, and even reading to her at night.

Morgana runs her hands over Morgause’s bare back, pulling her in close so that their breasts mash together. She wraps a leg around Morgause’s hip as they deepen their kisses, moving her groin rhythmically, the friction eliciting little gasps between them.

Morgause pulls away and takes one of Morgana’s nipples between her lips, nibbling. Morgana closes her eyes and cries out as she feels teeth sink in. Lately their magic has been playing a part in their love-making, and now it mingles together, strengthening the desire. As Morgause works Morgana with her fingers, Morgana suddenly sees Mithian’s face before her, and she shudders, climaxing.

Upset at herself, Morgana pushes Morgause back on the bed. Using her magic, she secures her lover’s wrists and ankles to the bedposts above her head so that Morgause is completely exposed to her. Morgause stares at Morgana, shocked, pupils dilated with need, her shaved privates spread open. 

Intent on giving pleasure, Morgana lowers her mouth to her, licking at her sweet folds until Morgause is reduced to sobbing pleas for completion.

"Morgana..."

Morgana releases Morgause's legs, letting them fall onto her shoulders, the weight comforting as Morgana continues to lick and nibble teasingly, fingers of one hand inching up to toy with a rosy nipple. Morgana slides four fingers inside Morgause, fucking her deeply and quickly, tonguing at her stiffening clitoris until Morgause shatters, knees hugging Mogana's head, body trembling as she screams out Morgana’s name.

When Morgana releases Morgause from her magical ties, Morgause wraps herself around Morgana, hugging her tightly with a hum of satisfaction.

“That was…marvelous,” she purrs into Morgana’s ear. Soon after, she falls asleep, but Morgana remains awake for a long while.


	10. Lies

Chapter 10

Lies

“Thank you for bringing these, Freya,” Arthur says, taking the small kit of tools from his new PA’s hands.

“You’re welcome,” Freya tells him. “I won’t ask why you need lock picks over the weekend, either,” she says with a small smile.

Arthur looks at her sharply and then sighs, his face relaxing. “I appreciate that.” He’d tried all night to get into the strong box without success.

“You have circles under your eyes,” Freya tells him. “Haven’t you slept at all?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I have a lot on my mind.”

Freya picks up the house phone and calls down to the kitchen, asking Alice for some warm milk.

“You really need to take a nap, Sir. You’re dead on your feet.”

Arthur has to admire her—second day on the job, and already she’s taking over like a pro.

“You’re not new to this, are you?” he says, settling down in his plush easy chair and staring up at her. Looking at her closely, he notices for the first time that the pupils of her very dark eyes are slits, signifying that she’s Gattoian. He wonders how much she’s inherited from the planet of the cat people. Arthur has always found them one of the more intriguing alien races that have mingled with earth.

Freya sits on the ottoman opposite and surprises him by taking one of his bare feet in her small hands, beginning a slow massage that feels so good, Arthur closes his eyes and leans his head back.

“You must really be lost in your own world,” she laughs. “I was Agravaine’s PA for three years. He recently replaced me with a girl he’s become involved with.”

Arthur opens his eyes. “That’s terrible.”

Freya shrugs. “It happens. PA’s get involved with their bosses, then it ends and they’re out on their rumps.” Her eyes suddenly meet Arthur’s, appalled.

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I know I’m guilty of it, too, I know. But don’t worry; your virtue’s safe with me; I only like blokes.”

Freya grins. “My boyfriend will be glad to hear it. I suppose you also don’t know that I’ve been dating George for a year now.”

“George?” Arthur’s eyes widen. “My father’s PA?”

Freya nods, setting Arthur’s foot back on the ottoman and taking the other one into her lap. There’s a knock at the door and she calls for them to come in. If Gaius is surprised to see a girl in Arthur’s rooms massaging his feet, he doesn’t let on. He sets the tray on the table by Arthur’s chair and retreats without a word.

“Can I tell you a secret, Sir?” Freya asks.

“Please call me Arthur,” Arthur says on a small moan as Freya digs into his arch with crafty fingers.

“Arthur, then. The secret is that I’m glad you broke things off with Mordred. He’s awful.”

Arthur can’t help but smile. “I confess I didn’t date him for his personality.”

Freya digs a little harder into Arthur’s foot, making him yelp. “Rogue. Seriously…Mordred talked terribly about you behind your back, and I’ve always thought you were wonderful and didn’t deserve it. I think most employees feel that way. And now that you’ve dumped him, he’s really mouthing off.”

“Not to mention fucking my father,” Arthur mutters. _Shit! He didn’t mean to say that._

He opens his eyes and looks at Freya, who laughs. “Glad you know that, at least. Everyone else does.”

Colour seeps into Arthur’s cheeks. He reaches for his cup and takes a sip.

“What are those?” Freya asks, referring to the small cup of pills on the tray.

“Vitamins,” Arthur says, taking them and toppling them into his mouth, washing them down with another sip of the warm milk.

“Glad to hear you take vitamins, at least,” she says. “That’s healthy.”

“I’ve taken them all my life,” Arthur tells her. “Father insists on it. And I do exercise. I’m not a total workaholic.” He picks up the toast Gaius brought and bites into it. “Would you like a slice?”

Freya shakes her head. “I’ve eaten, thanks.” She sets Arthur’s foot down. “Can I trust you to lie down for a while, or are you going to immediately start picking locks?”

Arthur considers. The massage and the milk and toast have made him comfortably numb. “Maybe just a short nap.”

Freya grins and reaches for a nearby throw, spreading it over Arthur’s legs and turning out the light.

“Good boy,” she teases. “Call me if you need anything.”

Arthur barely gets a thank you out before he’s asleep.

***

Freya leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She’s glad Arthur’s sleeping; the man is dead on his feet. She’s worried about him for a long time, and she can’t quite believe her luck at landing the opening as his PA. Of course, George made sure she was next in line for it, but she was beginning to think Arthur would never get rid of Mordred.

There’s something not quite right in the Pendragon household; Freya’s thought it for a long time. Being Gattoian, she’s naturally curious. At the time they met, George was disgusted with his job as PA to Uther Pendragon, megalomaniac magic--hater, and was talking of leaving. Freya convinced him to stay. Together, the two of them decided they would quietly discover what was going on in _Pendragon Industries._ Whatever it is, they’ve both quickly come to the conclusion that Arthur Pendragon has nothing to do with it.

Freya climbs the stairs to the third floor and knocks on George’s door. He’s lived at the mansion ever since becoming Uther’s PA, his rooms adjacent to Uther’s. George has entertained Freya many times with stories of Uther’s sexual conquests—all of which he can clearly hear through the walls.

“Freya!” George smiles when he sees her, drawing her inside and closing the door. “I didn’t expect you this morning.”

“I had to bring something to Arthur,” Freya tells him, kissing him warmly. “I’ve forced some warm milk into him and ordered him to take a nap.”

George gives her a look. “Warm milk? The cure of all evils for the Gattoian.” He tweaks her nose playfully. “How did that go over?”

“Great, actually. He’s asleep. Of course it helped that I put a calming spell over it. I don’t think he slept at all last night. You know what he wanted me to bring him? Lock picks!”

George walks over to the small refrigerator in the corner and gets them each a bottled water. “Whatever for?”

“That’s what I want to know. Do you think he’s going to break into his father’s rooms?”

“He’s always trusted Uther implicitly,” George points out.

“I know, but I just found out Arthur’s aware that Uther’s fucking Mordred. Maybe he’s seeing Uther for what he really is.” Freya sets her water down and begins unbuttoning her blouse.

“We can only hope,” George replies, watching as the material drops to the floor and Freya unhooks her silky white bra.

“It’s been a while,” Freya says quietly as she reveals her small, pert breasts. “I’m going into heat.” She lets out a small yowl that goes straight to George’s groin.

“It certainly has,” George replies, drawing her close. He tongues one of her nipples, the cold from the water bringing it to a stiff peak. He reaches around and unzips her skirt, pushing it down over her slim hips, freeing her long, furred tail. Freya’s wearing garters and stockings, and the sight of her in them with her tail swinging from her pale arse is incredibly sexy.

Freya yowls again and turns around, pushing her buttocks out at him in open invitation, tail high in the air, dark fur covering it and trailing between her legs. It’s silkier than pubic hair, and George reaches down to pet it, scratching at Freya’s lust-swollen vulva, tugging at the tail until Freya shudders with need and drops to all fours.

George struggles out of his pants and mounts her, pushing into her inviting heat as she yowls again, humping back into him. He grasps her breasts, pinching the nipples as he fucks her, loud squelching noises filling the room. If he were Gattoian, his cock would be barbed, and sometimes he wishes it were; the thought is thrilling.

Freya hisses and jerks, arching her back as she climaxes, squeezing George’s release from him.

Exhausted, they finished undressing and get in bed, kissing and fondling, Freya’s long nails scratching a pattern on George’s back.

***

When Arthur awakens, he’s refreshed and oddly at peace. So many conflicting emotions have been roiling inside him, he hasn’t known what to think or feel. Calm settles over him, at least for the time being, and he takes advantage of it by grabbing up the tools and the strong box and getting to work.

It takes a while, but eventually Arthur manages to get the box open without outwardly damaging it.

Inside are a plethora of computer cards, all of which Arthur dumps upon his bed, spreading them out. He immediately opens up his laptop and slides the cards in, one after another. He sees his mother’s death certificate appear on the screen, the reason for death marked _pneumonia._

Next he sees his own birth certificate, as well as Morgana’s. Several photos dot the screen, and Arthur clicks on them one after another. A few were taken at his father’s union to his mother, and Arthur pauses to study their happy faces for a moment. He knows he looks very much like Igraine, and now Uther’s told him that he’s weak and gullible like she was. Still, he thinks Igraine lovely and yearns for his mother’s touch, which he can’t remember.

Arthur resolutely clicks to the next picture, which is an image of an attractive, dark-haired woman that Arthur doesn’t recognize. Arthur clicks again and is shocked to see another image of his father holding this woman intimately in his arms. Who is she?

Another image shows the same woman with another man. This one has a notation: Carlotta and Gorlois.

Arthur is absolutely floored when he sees the next image of Carlotta holding a small, glowing orb in her hands, her mouth smiling. _The woman has magic!_ He begins perusing through the index until he finds the heading: _Letters._

Clicking upon that, Arthur finds many letters written between his parents when they were young, but he also finds quite a few written between Uther and Carlotta. As he reads them, Arthur’s mouth drops open as the words become more and more provocative.

 _Carlotta, the moments I spend between your thighs are the xenith of my existence,_ Uther writes in one, dated a year after his union to Igraine. _The very thought of Gorlois touching you revolts me. I want to severe his withered cock from his body so it can never touch you. Only your assurances of his impotence keep me from doing so._

A letter from Carlotta to Uther make Arthur’s stomach churn.

_My love, I keep a bottle of your seed next to my bed, taking a sip from it every night so I can keep the taste of you on my tongue._

Arthur is horrified. His father carried on an affair while married to Arthur’s mother, a woman he professed to adore with every breath in his body! Not only that, but he had an affair with a magic-user—the notion is absurd. Arthur can’t fathom it. His hands shake as they move over the keyboard, seeking to find out what happened to this Carlotta person.

Finally he comes up with a news article on the accidental deaths of Carlotta and Gorlois Ricardo as they attempted to cross a busy street and were hit by an air commuter. They left behind a baby girl…Arthur’s blood runs cold.

Morgana Ricardo.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments--I appreciate them. I enjoy hearing what you like and try to add more of it in when I can.

More rage than Arthur’s felt in a very long time courses through his body. He is so filled with it, it scares him adrenaline running through his system like fire. He covers his face with his hands, taking deep breaths of air. His body hums with anger for his poor, dead mother and for his sister, who has had to hide her magical talents her entire life. Uther bedded Morgana’s mother…a woman who had magic herself. He did it more than once, then hypocritically condemned Igraine for the same thing.

Arthur looks around his rooms for a weapon. He scrambles off the bed. He’ll kill his father, that’s what  he’ll do. He’ll end it all now by putting a gun to Uther’s head and pulling the trigger. If Uther’s lied about magic all Arthur’s life, he’s lying about other things too. None of the cards in the strong box hold recent information, but Arthur is sure that his father is making a fool of him.

He finds his laser gun in the closet and heads for the door, pulling it open, chest still heaving with emotion, hair falling into his eyes.

Merlin stands on the other side looking more than a little shocked to find himself on the wrong end of a gun.

“Arthur?” he asks worriedly.

“Get out of my way!” Arthur orders. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur knows he must look like an enraged bull. He clutches at the gun, anger overpowering everything else.

“Arthur,” Merlin holds up a hand. “Are you all right? My magic…it felt… _this_.” He indicates Arthur’s disheveled, enraged figure. “What’s happened?”

“Move!” Arthur waves the gun. “I don’t want to hurt you, Merlin! Get out of my way!”

“Who are you after with that gun?” Merlin asks, not moving an inch.

“My father! He’s…just get out of the way, will you?” Arthur shouts, face red. “I’m going to kill him, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

Merlin’s eyes glow gold, the gun disappears, and Arthur flies backwards, landing on the bed. Merlin steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck!” Arthur groans, pulling his laptop out from under the small of his back.

“Arthur, I can’t let you kill your father in cold blood,” Merlin tells him.

“Why the hell not?” Arthur sits up. “You despise him. You despise _me_! Maybe we’ll both die, and all your problems will be over.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t despise you. I thought I did, at first, but…anyway. Arthur, killing your father—that’s just something you don’t want to do.” He smiles. “Let me kill him, eh? When the time’s right.”

Arthur stares at Merlin a moment before letting all the air out of his lungs, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “Fair enough.” The terrible anger is subsiding, and Arthur begins to shake.

“Hey…” Merlin comes forward. “Really, are you okay? What’s happened?”

Arthur feels Merlin’s magic surrounding him like a cocoon, trying to still the violent trembling of Arthur’s limbs.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks, alarmed. “Should I get Elyan?”

Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but to his horror, a sob comes out instead. “Oh, God… I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so strange.” He continues to tremble and curls up, wrapping his arms around his knees and holding on.

Arthur feels the bed dip and Merlin’s hand at the back of his neck. “It’s okay. Just ride it out, whatever it is.”

Merlin keeps his hand there, and after a few moments Arthur begins to feel better.

“Did you take something?” Merlin asks.

Arthur looks up at him. “What do you mean? Drugs? No!”

“It’s just that you’re acting like …”

“I don’t care; I didn’t take any drugs!”

There’s a knock at the door and Freya’s face appears. “Are you awake? Oh! Sorry.” She starts to leave, and Arthur calls her back.

“Did you put something in my milk when I wasn’t looking?” he asks her bluntly.

Stunned, Freya stammers, “No! Why do you ask that? What’s wrong?” She glances at Merlin.

“When I got here, Arthur was in a rage, ready to go shoot his father. Then he started to shake violently. It’s like he’s coming down from something.”

Freya bites her lip and looks over at the table. Crossing the room, she picks up the vitamin bottle.

“You took these.”

“Those are my vitamins, I told you. I’ve taken them as long as I can remember.” Arthur’s voice comes out tired and listless.

Freya shakes a few out into her palm. “Someone should have a look at them.”

Merlin stands. “I can have Percy analyze them.”

“This is ridiculous!” Arthur objects. “I’ve always taken them, and they’ve never had this effect on me.”

“The thing is,” Freya says uncertainly, “I felt really badly that you hadn’t slept and I kind of…put a calming spell on you.”

“You what?” Arthur says sharply.

“I’m sorry, but it was just a little spell. Only meant to relax you. It wouldn’t have made you act like this, unless…”

“I didn’t even know you had magic!” Arthur says, and then, “Unless what?”

“Unless,” Merlin interrupts, “it combined with another form of magic. Possibly in these pills.”

Arthur stares, open-mouthed. “What are you saying? That someone’s put a spell on my vitamins?”

“That they were made by someone magic,” Merlin says, pocketing the capsules. “I’ll let you know when I have the results.” He leaves the room.

Arthur feels bereft at the loss of Merlin’s comforting magic, and he lies back on the bed, arm over his eyes.

“Arthur, are you going to be all right? I’m sorry about the magic, but I don’t normally tell anyone. Your father would fire me.”

“Of course,” Arthur says softly. There are probably dozens of magic users at _Pendragon Industries_ , all forced to keep their abilities secret. Arthur feels sick.

He doesn’t know if he should, but he instinctively trusts Freya. He feels the dip of the bed and her hand resting on chest.

“I found out my father’s lied to me about something my whole life,” he tells her. “I don’t know how to process it. And this rage came over me…rage like I’ve never known. I’m usually so even-tempered. It was…frightening.”

He can hear Freya breathing softly. After a moment, Arthur takes his arm away and looks at her, her slit pupils rather beautiful in their odd way.

“Arthur, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but I don’t trust your father,” Freya tells him quietly. “I think you should be careful.” She reaches up and touches his face. “You’re a good person, and I’m beginning to think his treachery goes deeper than I even thought.”

Arthur nods slowly.

“I don’t know how many people would be on your side should something happen, but know that George and I are.”

“George?” Arthur asks, surprised. His father’s own PA doesn’t trust him?

“Yes.” Freya smiles.

Arthur sits up. “Freya, I’ve suspected for a while that something’s going on that I don’t know about. I think it has to do with Cenred. Maybe George can keep his ears open…”

“They already are,” Freya assures him.

***

“A flower?” Will asks, looking at the wild rose Leon offers him. “Is this your way of trying to get in my pants again?”

“You haven’t even looked at me since lunch the other day,” Leon pouts. “My ego is suffering.”

“I’ve been busy,” Will says, but takes the flower. “Why a wild rose?”

Leon smiles. “I searched far and wide until I found one the exact colour of your…er,” he looks down at the red bloom. “Cock?”

Will laughs and places the rose in the button hole of his shirt. “It’s lovely. Now go away; I’m busy.”

Leon moves from where he’s leaning against Will’s work table to stand behind him. Placing his hands on Will’s hips, he leans in and brushes his lips over the nape of his neck.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he says.

“I’m sure you will,” Will replies, clicking his computer keys over the various images of known alien life possibilities that the team’s narrowed down to, most of them horrific. He’s tired of the fear that dampens his armpits and keeps him from sleeping properly at night.

“Come on…forget about this shite for a while,” Leon coaxes, sucking a mark onto Will’s neck.

Will’s legs get wobbly and he forgets what he was doing for a few seconds. “Lock the door,” he says hoarsely, removing his trousers as Leon obeys. When Leon returns, Will smashes their mouths together in a passionate kiss that has Will hard and pressing into Leon’s thigh in seconds.

“Want you,” Will tells Leon. “Over the table.”

Leon flashes a naughty grin and unbuckles his belt, shoving his trousers down and bending over the work table provocatively. Will’s mouth goes dry with need. Upon their return from Essetir, they’d run their hands over the STD computer program pad, so there’s been no need for condoms. Will spits in his palm, running it over his throbbing cock before tapping Leon’s white arse with it.

“Ready for this?” he asks gruffly, and Leon nods, pushing upward to give Will a good view of his shaved hole. Will sends a stream of spittle down onto it, opening it up with his thumbs and letting it run inside. Leon moans.

“Come on; fuck me!”

Will places the flushed head of his cock to the pink pucker and slides in, closing his eyes at the tightness of it. He pulls Leon’s legs up, feet off the floor, and begins pumping, hard. Harder. Until Leon’s grunting and groaning, cursing and calling out Will’s name, erect cock waving just beyond the table edge.

Leon’s hands grip the far edge of the table as Will pounds into him. Will keeps his eyes glued to the place where he enters and exits Leon’s body. He pulls out for a second just to look at the gaping hole before spitting into it and surging in again, making Leon shout.

“Fuck! Yeah, gods…”

Will’s fast nearing completion. He reaches between Leon’s legs and pumps him, but he’s coming before he can get Leon close. Still hard, he continues to move in and out, hand fondling Leon’s cock and balls as he presses a kiss to Leon’s pale back.

“Let me come on your face,” Leon gasps, and Will moves off of him, dropping to his knees. He watches through half-closed eyes, mouth open, as Leon licks his own palm and works his cock, leaning over Will and watching as spurts of white burst out of him, striping Will’s nose and mouth. Will runs his tongue over his lips, savouring the salty slick of Leon’s release.

“Hey, open up! Why’s the door locked!” Merlin’s voice from outside the door breaks the quiet of the two men’s heavy breathing.

“Will, are you fucking in there?” Merlin demands, and Will laughs, cum dripping off his nose.


	12. Benny

Arthur spends the following night methodically going through Uther’s office. When he finds phone bills with evidence that Uther’s been corresponding with Cenred for months, he’s not sure what to make of it. Camelot and Essetir haven’t been on the closest of terms in the history of their colonies. Uther has always spoken of the Prime Regent of Essetir with disdain, only condescending to help him in these most extreme of circumstances. At least, that’s what Uther led Arthur to believe. Yet what have they been talking about all this time over the phone?

Arthur has felt jumpy ever since his episode the morning before when he’d taken the gun and started to go after his father. Gods, what if he’d gone through with it and killed him? Arthur had been out of control, completely filled with rage. It was lucky for him that Merlin appeared and stopped him, even if it had been by throwing him across the room using his magic. There really wasn’t any other way Merlin could have stopped Arthur, intent as he was to go through with it and holding a gun in his hand. It’s ironic, really, since Merlin would probably like to see Uther dead. Arthur has to appreciate that Merlin cares enough on some level to know that Arthur killing his own father, no matter what the reason, would be an emotionally damaging act for him.

Arthur sighs and puts the papers back in the drawer exactly the way he found them and locks it, placing the key on the little shelf under the desk where he found it. A noise from the outer office alerts him that someone is coming, and Arthur moves quietly into the closet, closing the door and crouching in the back behind Uther’s extra suit coats.

Mordred’s filthy giggle reaches Arthur’s ears, and Arthur rolls his eyes to the ceiling. He doesn’t want to have to listen to his father fucking Mordred, but he’s trapped and can hardly just pop out and admit he’s been snooping. Not yet, anyway. Not until he finds something significant—then he’ll let his father know.

“Gods, you’re sexy,” Mordred says from the other side of the door. “Let me see it. Ahhh…so big.”

Arthur swallows, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Give it to me, baby. You want me, don’t you?”

Arthur presses his lips together, fervently wishing he were someplace else.

“You want me right here on Uther’s desk…”

 _Wait a minute, what?_ Arthur leans forward, putting his ear to the door. _Who is it with Mordred, if not Uther? Gods, his ex is such a slut._

Sounds of the desk being jolted and Mordred whining in a way that Arthur is very familiar with fill the area, and Arthur listens harder, willing Mordred to call out a name, but all Arthur hears are the words _stud_ and _hung like a horse._

When the coast is clear, Arthur comes out and immediately makes his way to the sixth floor where the security cameras are. It takes some doing, but he manages to stop the one in his father’s office and rewind it. And there he sees in living color, photochips occasionally zooming in for a close-up view, Cenred fucking Mordred over Uther’s desk.

“Great, just great,” Arthur mutters. “Perhaps it’s Mordred that I need to talk to.”

He fixes the camera, making sure to eliminate all footage of himself having been in Uther’s office, including the nights he both took and replaced the strong box, and leaves the building.

He has to wait for Mordred to get home. When Mordred sees Arthur sitting in front of his flat door, he’s at first surprised, and then smug.

“Couldn’t do without me, could you?” Mordred asks, unlocking his door and inviting Arthur inside.

Arthur passes him and turns while Mordred closes his door. Then Arthur grabs him by the collar and heaves him upward until Mordred’s toes no longer touch the floor.

“Ah…being rough, are we? You always did like to push me around,” Mordred says. “Don’t worry, though…I think it’s _hot_.”

“Shut up,” Arthur tells him. “What are you up to, you little weasel? Fucking both my father and Cenred.”

Mordred smiles boyishly down at him. “Jealous? I’m willing to let you have my arse, too. Share and share alike, I say.”

Arthur drops Mordred, who barely lands on his feet.

“I don’t want your arse,” Arthur says coldly. “I want you to tell me what’s going on. What are my father and Cenred up to?”

“What makes you think I know?” Mordred asks petulantly.

“You do, though, don’t you,” Arthur accuses, staring at him.

Mordred steps toward Arthur, fingers creeping up Arthur’s chest. “I might be persuaded to tell.” He kisses Arthur’s jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

Arthur stiffens. “It’s over between us, Mordred.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Arthur sighs. He doesn’t have any feelings for Mordred. None. He was a convenient arse to fuck, that’s all. Arthur isn’t proud of that, and that’s really why he broke up with Mordred. That and the fact that ever since Merlin came on the scene, Arthur’s had confusing feelings about him.

Plus, Mordred’s fucking annoying.

“Nevermind, I don’t have to know that badly.” Arthur pushes Mordred away and opens the door to leave.

“Arthur, don’t go!” Mordred begs. “It was good between us.”

“No, it really wasn’t,” Arthur tells him.

“But don’t you want to know about Cenred? He and your father know one another quite well.” Arthur turns to see Mordred unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’ll find out some other way.” He leaves.

***

“He’s had them euthanized,” Elyan tells Gwaine. “All eight of them.”

Gwaine shakes his head. “How could he do that? They might have recovered…”

“He says he was doing the kind thing,” Elyan says. “I don’t know. Those people were burned and mangled. But they were alive.”

“As Prime Regent he has the right,” Lance puts in. “I mean, I don’t really agree with it, but it’s the law.”

“He’s covering something up,” Merlin says.

“That’s what I think,” Will adds.

“Uther probably knows what it is,” Merlin says.

“I think I might have a way to get close to Uther,” Gwen suddenly puts in, and they all look at her in surprise.

“How?” Gwaine asks.

“Well,” Gwen blushes prettily. “He’s been asking me to be the one to bring him updates lately. I think he has a thing for me.”

“I thought he was gay?” Percy says.

“Aw, he’ll fuck anything with a hole,” Will says.

“You aren’t thinking of…coming onto him, are you?” Lance asks, his face blanching.

“Well, yeah. I thought maybe I could find something out. It just seems that every time we get close to identifying these aliens, the computer programs botch up or something else happens. And as much as Uther says he wants to know, he doesn’t seem particularly upset about it. And Arthur says he’s always talked down about Cenred, yet some of us have seen them whispering together when they think they’re alone. Uther didn’t seem fazed by Cenred euthanizing the survivors from Essetir, either. I just think…if I can get into his flat, maybe I can find something.”

“My gods, Gwen! You don’t have to do this!” Lance looks at her earnestly.

“I know that,” Gwen waves a hand at him, and Merlin thinks perhaps she’s a bit tired of waiting for Lance to make his move. They’ve been dancing around each other for a year now.

“Well, if you’re willing, Gwen, I think it’s a super idea,” Gwaine replies, earning him a killer look from Lance.

“You can start by taking these reports to him now.” Gwaine slides the folder over to Gwen, who takes it.

“I’m going to find out what’s going on,” she promises. “I’ll brief you as soon as I can.” She gets up and walks out of the room.

Lance looks as though he’s going to be sick and heads for the bathroom.

“Spunky girl,” Will comments, standing. “Well, I’m heading for dinner.”

“Percy,” Merlin pulls the scientist aside after the others disperse from the meeting. “Have you come up with anything from those capsules?”

“They really are vitamins,” Percy says, “at least on the outside. But there’s a powerful spell on them. I’m not magic myself, so I don’t know much about it. You’d need someone who knows what they’re talking about. I have an idea, though. An old girlfriend of mine. I’m going to see her now, since I really need a break from staring at these eggs.”

“Thanks, Percy; you’re brilliant.”

Percy shakes his head. “You can say that if I ever figure out what kind of fucking alien is about to hatch out of these eggs. I have to find out how to kill them.”

“You will. I believe in you.” Merlin smiles at his friend.

***

 

Arthur grabs his briefcase and walks down the hall to the lifts. It’s been a grueling day, and he simply wants to get back to the mansion to relax. Another day without taking his vitamins has made him edgy and full of energy. He wonders if it could be true that they aren’t really just vitamins. Arthur ran into Merlin that morning at breakfast, and he told him that Percy should soon have some answers in that regard.

Arthur’s just boarding the lift when a woman hurries forward and he reaches out to keep the door open.

“Thanks,” the woman smiles. She’s beautiful in an ethereal way, with long, dark hair and very blue eyes.

“You’re Arthur Pendragon, am I right?”

Arthur nods. “And you are?”

“A friend of your father’s. Nimueh Baxter.” She holds out her hand, and he takes it. She squeezes his palm and then jerks her hand back with a gasp.

“What’s the matter?” Arthur asks as the doors slide open.

Nimueh stares at her hand, shocked. “You’ve been branded.” She steps off the lift without saying anything else and walks quickly to the exit.

What the fuck? _Branded?_

Arthur shrugs. The woman is obviously nuts.

Outside on the pavement, Arthur spots his father holding the door open of his limo for someone to get in. On closer inspection, Arthur is surprised to see that someone is Gwen, from The Elite. Although not a magic user, Gwen is still an integral part of the team, and Arthur’s surprised to see his father with her.

“Father?” he calls to him.

Uther closes the door to the car and turns to Arthur, stepping up on the pavement to meet him.

“Hello, Arthur. On your way home?”

“Yes. I just met a friend of yours…a Nimueh Baxter.”

Arthur is still angry with his father over the things he’s learned, but he’s been better able to control it. Uther looks uncomfortable at the mention of Nimueh’s name, Arthur’s sure of it.

“Ah, yes. She stopped by to see me.”

“Attractive lady,” Arthur says.

“Yes, she is. I, however, have a date with Gwen Cummings.”

“A date?” Arthur asks, surprised.

“Yes, Arthur, a date. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He walks around to the other side of the limo and gets in.

Arthur watches the car pull away from the curb before turning and walking to the garage where he’s parked his car.

Once back at the mansion, Arthur pauses in the kitchen to make a quick sandwich. It’s late, and everyone has already eaten.

He’s tired. He hasn’t slept well the past few days, his dreams haunted by visions from his childhood that become more vivid each night.

“Just get home?” Merlin comes in the side door and leans against the wall, watching Arthur bite into his sandwich.

Arthur nods.

“I wanted to talk to you a moment,” Merlin tells him. “It’s about those Essetir victims. I suppose you heard the news that Cenred had them euthanized earlier?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, gut clenching. He’d been so enraged at the news, he’d broken his office lamp.

“Well, I was just remembering about how I stayed in the room a bit at the hospital after you and Cenred left with the doctor. One of the men, the old man…he grasped my hand for a moment.”

Arthur looks at Merlin. “Did he say anything?”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “I just had an affinity with him because I could tell he had magic. I felt his fear. And he seemed to be warning me about Cenred.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Arthur asks, putting down his sandwich.

“Because I didn’t think you or your father wanted to hear anything about a magic- user,” Merlin replies. “But now I think maybe you’re…okay with it.”

Arthur swallows. “I was always okay with it. You’ve always just assumed.”

“I’ve had my reasons,” Merlin says. “You were there when one of the most terrible things in my life happened to me. I can’t just forget that.”

Arthur frowns, pushing away from the counter and stepping toward Merlin. “Are you talking about the incident on the playground? I can see where it must have been upsetting…I remember how hysterical you were. But Merlin, you’re a grown man now. We must put these things behind us.”

Merlin looks at Arthur, horrified. “How can you say that?” he whispers. “And I thought I was wrong about you!”

Arthur reaches out, grabbing Merlin by the arm. “Merlin.” Invisible sparks ignite when they touch, and Arthur feels charged by them. Merlin tries to wrench away, but Arthur won’t let him.

“You’re a monster, just like he is,” Merlin accuses, eyes flashing.

Arthur’s fingers grip Merlin’s arm and he can feel Merlin’s magic entangling around him.

“Why is it doing that?” Merlin demands. “Why is it betraying me?”

“Merlin, for God’s sake, you are over-reacting.”

“He let him die!” Merlin shouts, veins standing on his throat. “Your father—he didn’t care. He just let him die down in that hole. He said he wasn’t important enough to risk the lives of the men to rescue him!”

Arthur grasps Merlin’s shoulder with his other hand.

“I’m not saying I agree with him, but he had to make a decision.”

“How can you say that?” Merlin’s face is distraught as he fights Arthur’s grip on him.

“Merlin!” Arthur shakes him. “Stop! You’ve taken this incident and blown it way out of proportion!”

“What do you know about it?” Merlin asks angrily. “You didn’t know Benny. You never even tried to get to know him. You always had your friends –the rich ones—no one else mattered to you. He was my best friend!”

“He was a fucking cat!” Arthur yells back, and Merlin stills, stunned.

They stare at one another, so close they’re breathing the same air.

“Cat?” Merlin says.

“Yes,” Arthur nods. “And you’ve got his name tattooed on your fucking back; that’s how much you’ve refused to let this go.”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, face blank. “Arthur, listen to me.”

Arthur runs his hand soothingly down Merlin’s arm. “I’m listening.”

“Benny. Benny was not a cat. He was a boy. A five-year-old boy. My best friend. A magic user that your father didn’t deem worthy of risking a life to save. He left him in that hole to die of exposure in the cold.”

Arthur blinks, let’s go of Merlin’s arms. “A…boy.”

Merlin nods.

“You’re wrong. It was a kitten.” Arthur frowns. “I remember a kitten.”

“No. There was never a kitten, Arthur. Always Benny, a little boy left to die alone in the dark.”

Arthur stumbles back a step, latching onto the counter for support.

“How could I have had it so wrong all this time?” he asks, eyes wide. “Why do I remember a kitten if it was really a…a boy?”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” Merlin’s face is dark. “But I wonder what else you’ve been made not to remember.”


	13. Sorceress

 

Gwen sits on Uther’s plush sofa sipping a drink while he chats her up. All she really wants is some time alone in the flat so she can go through everything, but she isn’t sure how she can accomplish that unless she drugs Uther’s drink. Putting herself in this position was a little crazy, she knows, but she’s been on the outskirts of The Elite for a long time—sitting in the background not making much of a difference except when someone needed a bandage. She really wants to prove herself.

“You’re a very lovely girl,” Uther says, inching closer to Gwen. Gwen’s as far in the corner of the sofa as she can get. She leans back a little more, deciding playing the coy virgin would be the smartest thing to do.

“Thank you, Sir. I…I’m a little nervous!”

Uther laughs. “Don’t be, my dear. You’re in very good hands.” His smile reminds Gwen of a wolf.

The doorbell chimes, and Gwen lets out a sigh of relief when Uther rises to get it. He’s let his butler off for the evening, something that doesn’t bode well for Gwen unless she can think of a way to get out of there before Uther gets too amorous. Somehow she thought Uther would wine and dine her a bit before trying to get her into bed, but the whole end-of-the-world thing seems to have thrown chivalry to the wind.

For everyone except Lance Darling, that is.

Gwen refuses to think of him, though, and his honey skin and large, brown eyes; that silky dark hair and those broad shoulders…

Voices attract Gwen’s attention, and she sets her drink down, getting up from the sofa and walking softly to the closed double doors. She leans in and listens.

“I tried to, Uther! But I couldn’t read him. Someone has branded him.”

“What? What the hell does that mean?”

“A magic-user, a powerful one, has marked him as theirs. I could barely stand touching him.”

“Fuck,” Uther grumbles. Gwen wonders who the woman’s voice belongs to.

“I’m sorry, but perhaps since I’m here…”

“I have company,” Uther says. “A woman.”

“Oh. All three of us then?”

Gwen scampers back to the couch and flops down just as the double doors open. She’s afraid she looks rather wanton splayed out the way she landed.

“Gwen,” Uther sounds pleased. “This is my good friend, Nimueh.”

“Hello,” Gwen smiles, heart beating fast. If Nimueh has any intuitive powers, the jig is up.

But Nimueh’s mind seems to be on something else. Her hands roam over Uther’s chest before pulling his cobalt tie loose.

“I came to play with Uther,” Nimueh purrs. “I hope you’ll join us.”

“Um, well,” Gwen isn’t sure what to say. She doesn’t want to spoil future chances to be with Uther, but what the fuck is she supposed to do? She’s never been with a woman before, and a man and a woman at the same time? She realizes she’s about to pay for her audacity coming up with this plan.

“I’m…I’m not sure that kind of thing is for me,” she stammers, keeping with the scared virgin tactic; it’s half the truth, anyway.

“Nothing to be afraid of, my dear,” Nimueh says, standing behind Uther and unbuttoning his shirt.

Gwen bites her lip, staring as the other woman proceeds to unbuckle Uther’s trousers. Reaching for her drink, Gwen downs it in one gulp.

***

 

Percy lays in bed beside Lamia, heartbeat slowing back to its regular beat.

“Well, I didn’t expect that.”

“Me, neither,” Lamia says, leaning up to kiss him. “It was good, though.”

“Very,” Percy agrees. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve been busy. The Elite’s kept you away a long time.”

“Yeah,” Percy sighs.

“It’s okay. I understand.” Lamia runs a finger over Percy’s broad chest.

“I expected you to move on,” Percy says softly.

“I couldn’t.” She sits up, revealing her small breasts, nipples firm and pink. “Let me see those pills you brought.”

Percy reaches over the side of the bed for his trousers and digs the small round pill box out. He hands it to Lamia, who opens it. She pours the pills into her palm and covers them with her other palm. Closing her eyes, she whispers a few words. _Inis dom nádúr na._

When she opens her eyes, they flash gold. She drops the pills in her lap.

“These have been crafted by a powerful sorceress,” Lamia tells Percy, eyes wide.

“What has she done to them?”

Lamia’s eyes flash gold again. _Beidh an duine a ithe na chailleadh a thoil féin._

“Sorry, what? English, please.”

“The person who consumes these will lose his will,” Lamia repeats. “They slowly build in the system, keeping the consumer from exerting his own will if it’s against that of the spell-master—the one whom the spell was created for.”

“Fuck,” Percy whispers. “So he’s like a robot or something?”

“Only when it comes to the spell-master’s will,” Lamia says. If the spell was made for a wife, for instance, the husband would never be able to fully go against his wife’s desires, and she would control his emotions in areas that matter to her. He also couldn’t see anything that the wife didn’t want him to. He could stare right at her fucking another man and if she told him it was the dog lying beside her, he’d see that instead. It’s a fiendish way of control. As long as the person takes these pills, he’s basically whatever type of person the spell-master wants him to be.”

“Amazing,” Percy breathes.

Lamia puts the pills back in the box and hands them to Percy. “There aren’t that many sorceress’s powerful enough to do this, but I know of one. Her name is Nimueh. She’s around five-hundred-years-old but doesn’t appear a day over twenty-five; strikingly beautiful; and if I remember correctly, she had a sister who died young…Carlotta was her name. She had great magic, too.”

Lamia bends down and kisses Percy on the lips, her hair falling to curtain their faces. He pulls her so that she rolls on top of him, and he slips into her still-wet entrance, thrusting up until she gasps into his mouth, knees squeezing his hips.

“Let’s make the most of the time we have,” he suggests and thrusts again.

***

 

Arthur pours another bourbon and drinks it down. He stares out the windows of his rooms, brooding. He feels sick. He hasn’t been able to sleep, and the rumpled state of his bed, sheets pushed to the bottom and pillows thrown to the floor, shows it.

He gets up, setting the heavy cut-glass tumbler on the fireplace, and starts for the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the floor. The fact that his memories have somehow been altered weighs heavily upon him, making him feel like a pawn. How much of his life has been real? How could he have watched a little boy left to die and believed it was only an animal? What had people thought of him after that? How many similar incidents were there, and what of Merlin’s earlier accusation about his brother being taken in the night?

Arthur feels sick. He has a feeling it’s all true. Every time he closes his eyes, things become clearer; memories of voices in the night, whispered orders, men that Arthur was afraid of.

He wonders if Morgana has any inkling, but no…she wouldn’t. She’s always been more sheltered from Uther’s doings than he’s been. She had her own governess and a suite of rooms on the other side of the mansion. She was never privy to business as Uther made certain Arthur always was.

Staring at the shower, Arthur decides what he needs is a long soak in the Jacuzzi. Grabbing one of his monogrammed towels off the rack, he turns and walks out of his rooms into the hallway, padding barefoot down the hall to the large guest bath. The outer door stands ajar, and Arthur pushes it open. The inner door is closed, but all is quiet, so Arthur opens it, entering the room and shutting it behind him. Turning the corner, he stops, arrested for the second time in this bathroom by the sight of Merlin. This time, Merlin’s nude and standing in the shower stall, feet spread and back against the wall, one hand on his long cock, tugging rhythmically at it.

Arthur’s breath catches in his throat and he’s immobilized at the sight of Merlin’s lean body and the piercing on his cockhead. Merlin’s head leans back against the tiles, his eyes closed, and he lets out a groan that has Arthur’s cock peeking eagerly out of the slit of his boxers.

“Holy fuck,” Arthur whispers before he can stop himself, and Merlin jolts, hand coming up to steady himself and cock waving in the breeze.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Arthur breathes.

Merlin’s expression goes through several changes: shock, embarrassment, anger; finally settling on desire after Arthur’s words of appreciation.

“Come here,” Merlin tells him, and Arthur drops his towel, obeying.

Merlin turns on the shower, adjusting the spray. His body and hair are already wet, as though he stopped mid-wash to have a wank.

“Funny thing,” Merlin says almost shyly but still with a growl in his voice that gives Arthur the shivers. “I was just thinking about you.

Arthur drops his shorts, his cock standing at attention. “Good,” he steps into the shower stall. “I want you to think about me.”

Their mouths come together in a clash of teeth and tongue, no finesse whatsoever. The steel ball of Merlin’s piercing slides against Arthur’s shaft, and he gasps.

“I meant what I said before, Arthur,” Merlin tells him, kissing a line down Arthur’s face. “I want to fuck you.”

“I want you to,” Arthur tells him. “I fucking want you to.” He clutches at Merlin, who, inflamed by Arthur’s words, grabs Arthur under the buttocks and pulls him up to straddle his waist.

“Oh gods, oh fuck,” Merlin moans as they kiss again, his tongue sweeping into Arthur’s mouth. Merlin has Arthur’s arse cheeks spread and Merlin’s cockhead teases his opening.  Arthur can feel Merlin’s magic intensifying around them.

“I’m gonna have you, Pendragon,” he murmurs, and Arthur shudders. He wants this. He does.

Merlin bites Arthur’s neck and Arthur throws his head back, almost drowning himself in the spray. He coughs, clutching at Merlin’s shoulders.

“Shit,” Merlin gasps, holding Arthur tightly about the waist. “Maybe we should take this back to your room?” There’s laughter in his eyes.

Arthur nods, kissing Merlin again before unwrapping himself from his body and standing.

Towels hanging loosely about their waists, they make their way through the outer powder room and into the hall.

“There you are!” Gwaine stands at the end of the corridor by Arthur’s door, eyes at once roaming over the two of them. “Sorry to—er—interrupt, but both Percy and Gwen have called a meeting. They have some information they say can’t wait.”

Arthur and Merlin look at one another, frustration on both their faces. Arthur moves toward his rooms and Merlin back into the bathroom.

Arthur is mentally cursing when he strides into the meeting room downstairs ten minutes later. His cock is crammed into his trousers, still hard from his constant thoughts about Merlin naked in the shower and what it felt like to kiss him and have the head of Merlin’s cock prodding at his hole.

“You have news?” Arthur gets right to the point, eyes landing briefly on Merlin, who gives him an equally intense look before turning to Percy.

“My ex…Lamia. She looked at the vitamins.” Percy explains to them everything that she said.

Arthur slowly turns pale as the words sink in. It’s worse than he ever could have imagined. His father has been, essentially, controlling his mind from boyhood. He thinks of all the times Uther asked him if he’d taken his vitamins, and Arthur always thought he was being a good father, concerned over Arthur’s health; when really Uther only wanted to make certain that Arthur remained under his spell.

“Arthur?” Merlin says. “Are you all right?”

Arthur nods slowly.

“What a wanker,” Will says. “Practicing mind control on your own son!”

“But why?” Lance asks. “Wouldn’t you have tried to do as your father asks anyway?”

“He probably couldn’t risk it,” Merlin says quietly.

“I’ve just come from Uther’s,” Gwen tells them. She relays what she heard Nimueh say.

“Nimueh…that’s the sorceress that Lamia told me about!” Percy says. “Said she’s dark-haired and beautiful, and that she’s very powerful. Also that she used to have a sister named…Carlotta, I think.”

“Sounds like the same woman,” Gwen replies.

Arthur’s eyes widen. “Carlotta? Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Percy nods. “Why?”

“I recently found out she’s Morgana’s real mother,” Arthur says dully, still unable to process everything he’s just learned. Something Gwen said is bothering him.

“What did she mean by _branded_? Were they talking about me?”

“Someone’s magic has claimed you,” Mithian tells him. Arthur’s eyes slide to Merlin, whose ears are bright red. _Claimed him?_

Has Merlin’s magic taken hold of him now? Is Arthur never to be his own man? Is this why he’s been filled with such a yearning to have Merlin fuck him into the floor from the very first day he met him?

“I have to wonder what Uther and Cenred are planning,” Gwaine says. “I mean, Cenred managed to get his family into the shelter before the invasion, which was supposed to be a surprise. Uther is in cahoots with Cenred. We’ve been unable to do anything about verifying who the aliens were who attacked, in spite of endless hours of trying on Uther’s equipment. It all sounds a bit fishy to me.”

“I agree,” Sefa says. “Perhaps Uther doesn’t want us to figure this out. All he’s been concerned with is getting some eggs here for us to examine.”

“And why would that be?” Will asks. “Unless…he wants them to hatch here?”

Everyone stares at one another.

“Why would Uther and Cenred want an invasion unless they are somehow affiliated with the aliens?” Leon asks. “Fuck.”

“Leon,” Arthur says, surprised at the steadiness of his voice. “I need you to find us a habitable planet as soon as possible.”

“I’ve just spent a year looking for one,” Leon points out.

“You found a few possibilities, didn’t you? Go back and choose one. This is an emergency,” Arthur says, and Leon nods.

“I’ll notify my co-pilot to prepare right away.”

“Oh, and Leon. Under no circumstances do you let this get to my father. He isn’t to know about it. From now on, you report to me.”

“Yes, Commander,” Leon says, rising from his chair. He smiles at Arthur before leaving the room.

Arthur stares moodily at the table as the others continue to hash out ideas. All he can think of is that he hasn’t been his own person and that even now, he isn’t sure if his desires are his own. He feels violated and unclean. He stands abruptly.

“I need some time alone. Report to me if there are any changes. From this moment forward, no information goes to my father before going through me first. Is that clear?”

There are nods all around, and Arthur leaves the room.

***

Merlin paces his room. So that’s why his magic takes Arthur’s side in everything—it’s _claimed_ him, whatever the hell that means.

The look in Arthur’s eyes when he found out about Uther and what he’d done to him haunts Merlin. And then, what Gwen said…

Unable to stop fidgeting, he walks next door to Mithian’s room and knocks.

She opens the door, rubbing her eyes.

“Merlin? What is it?”

“What the hell does it mean that my magic’s claimed Arthur?”

Mithian puts a finger to her lips and crosses the room to close the double doors leading to her bedroom.

“I let Morgana sleep in my bed. We had an intense magic session.” Mithian pulls her robe more tightly around her.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Merlin mumbles, and Mithian smacks his arm.

“I’m serious. Wait a minute…It’s _your_ magic that’s claimed Arthur?” Mithian asks, surprised.

“Yes,” Merlin runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s been acting up ever since we got here. It takes Arthur’s side in just about every argument we have, it’s turned me from basically a monk to an insatiable sex maniac, and it’s completely keyed in on all of Arthur’s emotions. Right now I can feel Arthur hurting, but I know if I go to him, he’ll turn me away. He feels manipulated by me and my magic, just as he’s been manipulated by his father his entire life!”

“It’s not the same at all, though,” Mithian says softly. “Merlin, your magic has chosen Arthur. He’s your soul mate.”

Merlin stares at her, about to protest, but then sighs. He knows it’s true; it’s useless to argue.

“What the hell do I do about it?”

“What is there to do?” Mithian asks. “You can’t do anything but be there for him. Can you imagine anything else?”

Merlin shakes his head and rubs his hands over his face. “No. Thanks, Mith. I’ll let you get some rest.”

When he’s gone, Mithian slips off her robe and covers herself with it on the small sofa.

Before she knows it, sun is streaming through the window. Mithian gets up, yawning, and goes to the small coffee maker on the counter that she left ready to brew. She switches it on and pulls off the T-shirt she slept in, tossing it in the laundry basket.

Wearing only her pink thong, she sifts through the closet for something to wear.

A sudden pounding on her door sends her quickly to open it a crack.

A disheveled Morgause stands there.

“Is Morgana here? She’s not answering her phone.”

Mithian steps back, and Morgause enters, looking Mithian up and down. Mithian has her arm covering her bare breasts, and she walks toward the closet again, pulling out the first thing she can reach, a simple dress. Turning her back to Morgause, she pulls it over her head.

“She spent the night. Our session ran late and she was exhausted. I thought she would have called you.”

“Well, she didn’t.” Morgause says angrily. She stalks across the room and throws open the doors the Mithian’s bedroom, where Morgana is still sleeping in Mithian’s bed.

“So, she slept with you, did she?” Morgause screeches. "It figures...I couldn't make it to the session, so she takes advantage."

“Hey, she only slept in my bed…” Mithian says.

“Oh, sure. And you just happened to be prancing about in your thong!”

Morgana stirs, sitting up. She’s borrowed one of Mithian’s T-shirts to sleep in, and the sight enrages Morgause.

“I can’t believe this!” Morgause screams. “You cheated on me, you bitch!”

“What?” Morgana gets out of the bed. “Gods, what time is it? No, Morgause…I only stayed the night!”

Morgause looks around, spots two wine glasses, and points. “Oh, and I suppose drinking wine has everything to do with your magic session!”

“Morgause!” Morgana climbs out of bed and takes a step toward her.

“Don’t touch me!” Morgause seethes, turning swiftly and heading for the door.

“Morgause! Wait!” Morgana runs after her.

Mithian reaches out and grabs her arm. “Get dressed first,” she says.

Morgana looks around for her clothes. Quickly, she strips off the T-shirt as Mithian hands her her bra, blouse, and jeans.

Purse and keys in hand, Morgana rushes out the door without a backward look.


	14. Duplicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments. <3

Uther sits in bed scrolling through the files on his C-bit. The reports of small sections of security tape missing from surveillance of his office are troubling, but not terribly so. Uther knows Mordred swiped one of his key cards and that he won’t find anything of interest. Uther keeps it all locked somewhere else; he isn’t stupid.

What Uther wants to know is what his son is up to, but there have been no reports of interest on that front. Arthur is as boring as ever. He’s thought about having George enter Arthur’s rooms when Arthur is out, but Uther’s not sure he entirely trusts his own PA lately since he realized he’s seeing Freya Montgomery. There’s something about that woman that bother’s Uther. He senses magic on her, but he hasn’t been able to prove it. He’ll have to get Nimueh on that.

Nimueh’s assertion that Arthur’s been branded by a magic-user is unexpected and upsetting. Uther doesn’t want his son to be harmed in the purge—he’s spent years grooming him for his future and has too many plans for him; however, if what the Mantoids have told Uther is true, there may be a way around the magical branding. If Uther can get Arthur bonded with their kind, he won’t be in any danger when the invasion comes, and the bonding should take care of any residual magic that clings to him from a branding. The bonus would be that Arthur will be united with the Prince of the Mantoids, and Uther will have an even more solid footing with the species than what their contract already states. His future of a planet without magic is almost in his grasp.

“What are you thinking about?” Nimueh asks, rolling over in bed and looking at him with her spectacularly blue eyes. He glances down at where the sheets have fallen to reveal one plump breast, nipple dusky and inviting. Uther sets the C-bit on the table and scoots down in the bed, taking it in his mouth and biting down until she cries out and arches her back. He wishes sometimes he could keep Nimueh in the end; she’s an inventive lover. Nothing like her sister, of course. Uther had truly loved Carlotta, and she had loved him with a fierceness he’d never known before or since. In the end she’d only brought him heartache…a numbing hole left by her death. Igraine, the only other woman he’s loved as intensely, left him for a magic-user, and she paid for that with her life. She weakened him, too. Uther swore to himself he’d never be that weak again. Nimueh is just a useful tool.

He toys with her, tongue swirling around the bud of her nipple, until she’s panting and grasping at his back with her long nails, and then he flips her over, pushing her long, pale legs apart, and enters her swiftly from behind, pumping into her with powerful strokes while she curses him and levitates various objects in the room with her magic.

“Come, bitch, I don’t have all day,” he growls, and she moans.

Roughly pulling Nimueh up by the hair, Uther holds her body to his, pushing into her relentlessly.

“Come on…give over…”

“You dick!” she screams, reaching back to clutch at Uther’s hair. It hurts, but he likes it.

Uther slides his hands down her body, pushing fingers between her slick folds and shaking them. Nimueh jerks with a sharp cry, her body pulsing around him, squeezing out his release. He bites her neck, spilling into her before throwing her down on the mattress.

As he dresses, Nimueh lies spent and smiling on his bed. “You fuck me well in bed, Uther,” she tells him. “But you’d better not fuck me over anywhere else.”

Uther glances at her and gives her a smile. “Of course not, my dear.” He finishes tying his tie before bending down and giving her a passionate kiss.

Nimueh grasps his hair before he can straighten up.

“I mean what I say, Uther Pendragon.” Uther feels a sudden tightening around his balls.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes widening as the constriction gets tighter.

“Just chaining you up a bit until you get back. A reminder of my abilities,” she smiles, letting his hair go. “Do not cross me.”

Uther clears his throat, keeping his face impassive. His nuts throb within the confines of her magic. He gives her a curt nod and turns to leave. He needs to speak to Arthur.

***

“I came to see if you’re all right,” Freya says, taking a seat in Arthur’s sitting area.

“I’m fine,” he rubs his eyes which he knows are red from lack of sleep.

“No, you’re not. I’ve heard about it all, Arthur.” Freya looks Arthur over with her odd cat eyes. “It can’t be easy to feel so betrayed by your father.”

Arthur leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling. He refuses to show the hurt he feels.

Freya gets up and sits at the edge of his chair. He looks up at her, surprised.

“Arthur,” she puts a hand on his arm and then frowns, taking it away.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

She tilts her head.

“It’s just…I feel something. Someone with magic has…”

“Branded me. I know.” Arthur scowls. “Does that mean it burns to touch me?”

“No,” Freya shakes her head and reaches for Arthur’s hand, wrapping hers around it. “Whoever’s magic has branded you loves you very much. This magic knows I mean you no harm. I just feel it’s warmth and protectiveness.”

Arthur stares at her, shocked. “You’re wrong.” Merlin doesn’t love him. It wasn’t long ago he hated him!

“I know magic, Arthur. I’m not wrong. And you’re fortunate to have this magic with you. It’s been helping you for a while, I think. Have you felt different since you first encountered it?”

Arthur thinks back. He has. It wasn’t until the appearance of the team that he began to feel the first stirrings of real doubt about what’s going on around him.

“Do you really think …are you saying that Merlin’s magic has attached itself to me?”

Freya smiles, probably at the admission of Merlin’s name. “In part, yes. He wouldn’t be able to help it. He didn’t force his magic upon you; it did it of his own accord. The two of you are meant to be together. Some people simply are.”

There’s a loud rap at the door, and before either of them can move, the sound of a card swiping the lock. It opens, and Arthur’s father strides in.

“Arthur.” He stops when he sees Freya. “Oh, yes. Miss Montgomery. I seem to remember hearing you are now my son’s PA. I’d like a moment with him, please.”

Freya stands, dropping Arthur’s hand. “Certainly. If there’s nothing else, Sir?” she looks at Arthur.

“No, that will be all, Freya.”

When she’s gone, Arthur offers his father a seat. Everything in him wants to rail at Uther for all he’s done, but he keeps himself in control. He doesn’t want his father to know yet that he no longer has him under a spell or that Arthur realizes he’s up to something where the aliens are concerned.

“That was a rather intimate scene I just walked in on,” Uther notes, shifting in his chair as though uncomfortable. He reaches down and adjusts his trousers. “Are you and Miss Montgomery involved? You seem to have a penchant for your PA’s, which really isn’t a good idea, Arthur.”

Arthur just manages to control his annoyed flinch at Uther’s patronizing tone.

“No, Father. We are not involved.” He doesn’t offer any further information, and after a moment, Uther moves on.

“Well, that’s good, considering what I have to say. I’d like you to clean up, please. We are having dinner with someone special.”

Arthur raises his brow in question.

“Who?”

“You’re intended. I’ve arranged the union of you and the son of a diplomat from Trion. He’s very handsome and accomplished. You’re the perfect match, and it will consolidate relations between our planets. You must remember-- we’ve spoken of this many times in the past.” Uther looks at him steadily.

Arthur is shaken, but clear enough to know that Uther has never brought this up with him before and is exerting the spell over him. If Arthur was truly under its power, he would believe everything Uther is saying unconditionally. Slowly, he nods his head. He’ll play along for now and see what Uther is up to, he decides. Why would he want Arthur to unite with a diplomat’s son? Now, of all times, when they are under attack from an unknown planet? Trion is a small, unassuming planet that humans colonized a couple of hundred years ago and doesn’t have any special forces at their disposal to help them.

“Excellent. The car will pick you up at seven.” Uther stands, a little carefully, Arthur thinks, and leaves.

 

***

“So, you’re really flying out,” Will says, standing at the door of the control room.

“You really do care!” Leon smiles over his shoulder. “I was beginning to think I was just another fuck to you.”

Will shrugs, looking down at his hands. “You are. But I still want to say goodbye.”

Leon walks over and tilts Will’s chin up with a finger. “I have to find a safe place for us to go. Then…who knows?” he kisses Will softly, and Will responds.

Leon pulls away. “Uh, uh. None of that now. I have to focus on the job ahead, and fresh memories of your little bum will screw with my head.” He runs his thumb over Will’s ear before drawing away. “Take care.”

“I think I should be saying that to you. You’re about to leave the Earth’s atmosphere, and you don’t know if these aliens are out there waiting to blast you to bits.”

“It’s a chance I have to take,” Leon says. “I’ll just have to believe I can sneak out under their noses.”

Will gives him a heated look before turning and leaving the room, emotions churning within him. He never meant to have actual _feelings_ for the ginger-haired fucker, but now it seems he’s stuck with them.

***

Morgana has waited all day for Morgause to come home. It’s nearing dinner time when she hears the key in the lock. She tenses, listening to the familiar noises of her lover taking off her coat and shoes in the foyer. When Morgause appears in the doorway of the living room, Morgana is surprised at how wrecked she looks. She immediately gets to her feet and goes to her.

“Morgause…”

Morgause doesn’t stop her, and Morgana wraps her in her arms.

“I’m sorry I’ve spent so much time over there,” Morgana whispers in her ear. “I won’t go anymore.”

“I’ve always felt that your magic is more important to you than mine is to me,” Morgause says dully in Morgana’s ear.

Morgana moves away enough to look in the other woman’s face. “What?” she frowns. She supposes it’s true. While her magical abilities have always been a source of excitement to her, Morgause has rarely ever spoken about her own.

Morgause nods.

“This really isn’t even about Mithian, is it?” Morgana asks.

“Not really,” Morgause sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I’m jealous of your time.” She pulls away and goes to the sofa, curling up on it and patting the place beside her invitingly. Morgana goes to sit on it

“I know you’re attracted to her,” Morgause says. “I am, too, I’ll admit. She’s pretty and …well, fresh.” She looks at Morgana for verification, and Morgana nods. “I don’t think you’re in love with her, though.”

Morgana shakes her head. “I love you. I’ve been torn up all day, wondering if you’d even come back to me.”

Morgause smiles. “I’m sorry. I had to clear my head. I’ve been thinking, and my jealousy is more about the magic. I feel that you want to join The Elite and leave me.”

Morgana bites her lip. Is that what she wants? Because if she joins the team, it would mean spending a lot of time away. At least, if things stay the way they’ve been.

“I guess we don’t really know what the future holds right now,” Morgana replies. “What I want more than anything is to fight for the rights of magic users, and …well, my dreams lately have centered around a danger for us.”

Morgause sits up. “Why haven’t you told me this?”

“Morgana shakes her head. “I haven’t told anyone. They’ve scared me. I don’t even know how real they are…”

“Morgana.” Morgause takes her hands. “You are very talented and powerful. I know this. You must believe in yourself.”

“But how can you know?”

“I just do.” Morgause smiles. “And I love you. And I want you to have everything your heart desires.” She looks at Morgana seriously. “Including Mithian.”

Morgana looks away. “Oh, Morgause. I could never do that to you.”

“Let’s go see her and tell her of these dreams, shall we? Perhaps we can work something out between the three of us.”

Morgana turns and looks at Morgause, startled, and then she smiles. Leaning in, she kisses her softly, tongue creeping out to circle Morgause’s lips. “I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you, too. I’m sorry I screamed at you and called you a bitch.” She pulls Morgana onto her lap so she straddles her, arms encircling her waist.

“Apology accepted.”

***

“You’re going out with him again?” Lance asks, appalled.

“He’s asked me to dinner,” Gwen replies. “A double date. He says it’s an important occasion with Arthur and his _intended_.”

“What?” Merlin swings around from where he’s been entering data into the computer. “What the hell?”

“I know,” Gwen replies. “That’s why I said yes.  After the last time, I wasn’t exactly eager. But I have to find out what he’s talking about.”

Merlin looks at Gwaine. “Arthur’s intended? You think Uther is marrying Arthur off?”

“If he is, he’s doing it under the spell, and he doesn’t know that Arthur isn’t under it anymore. Arthur must want to see what’s going on.”

Merlin frowns. “I want to go, too.”

“You can’t go,” Gwaine scoffs, “Uther will see you. That’s the beauty of Gwen dating him. She can be our eyes and ears.” Gwaine turns to Gwen. “We’ll put the special contacts in your eyes and the mic in your ear so we can hear and see everything you do.”

Gwen nods. “I’ll go get ready.”


	15. Mantoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has a date with something weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those commenting. It helps to keep my creative juices going.

 

“Get it off,” Uther demands, slipping out of his red silk boxers and standing naked in front of Nimueh, who leans casually against the balcony door swirling her drink with a finger. She puts the vodka-soaked digit to Uther’s lips. When he presses them together, she lifts a brow, waiting until he reluctantly opens his mouth, taking her finger upon his tongue and sucking it.

Nimueh looks down at Uther’s purple sack, drawn tight by the invisible strands of her magic.

“Hurts, does it?  You know you love it, Uther. You’re half-hard.” Nimueh smiles as Uther sucks harder on her finger, closing his eyes. She slowly slides her finger from his mouth and kneels at his feet, staring up at him.

“Take it off,” Uther tells her hoarsely.

“What’s the hurry?” she asks innocently, pink tongue coming out to tease the tip of Uther’s cock.

Uther sucks a deep breath through his nose.

“I have a dinner engagement.”

“With whom?” Nimueh traces the head carefully with the tip of her tongue, her magic dragging Uther’s hands over his head and keeping them there.

“Fuck, Nimueh!” Uther cries out. “I have to go!”

Nimueh only smiles and continues with her teasing.

Uther tries to move away from her, but she binds his feet so that he’s spread out like an X.

Uther begins to perspire, straining against the invisible ties. “All right…I’m going out to introduce Arthur to a gentlemen I’d like him to get to know. Satisfied? Now…now, _please_ , Nimueh.” Uther uses his silkiest tones.

Nimueh pouts. Uther thinks he’s gotten his way, but then she takes his cock into her mouth and sucks. It’s so hot and wet…and he can’t come with her magic binding him. It’s fucking _torture!_

“You bitch!” he spits out, anger getting the best of him, and she bites him. “Fuck!” he lets out a stream of curses, and suddenly finds himself bent over, arms pulled up behind him, legs still spread. Turning his head, he’s both horrified and turned on when he sees Nimueh standing there, suddenly wearing only an extremely large strap-on.

“If you want to be on time, Uther, you’ll shut up and do as you’re told,” she says, giving his bare arse a harsh slap with the palm of her hand.

Forty-five minutes later, Uther sits in the restaurant, balls still bound, arse smarting, and the memory of Nimueh taking him dry, her tinkling laughter punctuating every thrust, reverberating through his head.

“Father,” Arthur arrives at the table, and Uther downs the rest of his vodka, nodding at his son, who he has to admit looks very presentable in a dark blue suit, red tie, and crisp, white shirt.

Arthur puts in a drink order with the waiter when Gwen arrives at the same time as the Mantoid prince. Uther and Arthur both stand. Uther presses a kiss to Gwen’s cheek. She looks lovely in a tight yellow dress that accentuates her slim waist and lovely breasts that Uther has yet to see. He’d been torn between disappointment and arousal when Gwen had insisted upon participating only as a voyeur in their evening with Nimueh. Still, it had been hot to feel Gwen’s gaze upon him as he’d gone down on the other woman—Gwen had sat fully dressed on the bed, her eyes never leaving Uther’s face buried in Nimueh’s shaved crotch.

Gwen had been gone when Uther woke up the next morning, but the fact that she accepted this date was a good sign. Perhaps he’d take her to his rooms at the mansion tonight where Nimueh wouldn’t be waiting like a spider. Of course, there was the problem with his bound balls. _Fuck Nimueh!_

The Mantoid prince, on the outside, appears to be a very handsome, dark-haired man with a physique that Uther himself would like to tap. Uther, however, knows what he really looks like—the Mantoids all have similar features. Big eyes, tall, thin limbs—just a human version of their worker species, and it isn’t an attractive sight. Under Uther’s spell, Arthur won’t be privy to that, because Uther’s made certain he’s told Arthur how handsome Peter is. Peter can change into his true form when they are alone, and Arthur will never notice.

For now, however, Peter will have to keep up appearances in the restaurant.

Arthur greets Peter as the diplomat’s son that Arthur thinks he is. Everyone orders dinner.  It appears to Uther that Arthur is getting along with Peter, although his son seems a bit distracted. Uther tries keeping an eye on them, but Gwen chatters about the food, the restaurant, and the weather, demanding Uther’s attention. Soon he forgets about everything except her delightful smile and captivating curls.

Arthur tries to relax, but he doesn’t trust his father and frankly, being set up with a prospective mate feels weird. He’s glad that Gwen is present. She gives him an encouraging smile when the salad plates are cleared away and begins talking non-stop to Uther.

Peter is nice enough, and certainly handsome, but Arthur still can’t figure out why his father wants him to be united with him. Peter keeps up conversation, telling Arthur about Trion in a way that makes Arthur suspicious. It’s as though he’s memorized facts about the planet or something. It’s not even a very interesting planet, but even Arthur knows that those living there appreciate most the delicious fungus that grows in the caves and tastes so good that they eat it on practically everything; Peter never mentions it, although he talks about some of their culinary specialities.

While Arthur eats his entrée, he suddenly feels the familiar tingling sensation that heralds Merlin’s magic. He surreptitiously looks around. Merlin should not be anywhere in the vicinity, but Arthur definitely detects his magic. It winds itself around him, going so far as to work its way beneath his clothes, making Arthur blush and stammer out his next sentence. Peter seems to take that as a sign of Arthur’s interest, and moves closer to him. Arthur detects an odd scent about the man that’s bothersome. Every fiber in Arthur longs to withdraw, and as much as he hates to admit it, he thinks if it weren’t for the magic surrounding him, he’d bolt from the table.

When dessert comes, Peter takes Arthur’s hand, squeezing it. Surprised and more than a little revolted, Arthur looks at Peter, and Peter smiles charmingly. His eyes are an odd, light color—so pale a blue as to almost look white—and they stay fastened upon Arthur as they eat their cake, Peter squeezing Arthur’s hand all the while. Merlin’s magic objects to the prolonged touch of the other man, tingles gradually turning to a burning sensation all over Arthur’s skin the longer the contact continues, and Arthur finally slides out of Peter’s grasp.

Instantly relieved, Arthur again looks around the restaurant, sure that Merlin is there somewhere, or he wouldn’t be dealing with his magic as he is. As comforting as it is having it with him, pressed protectively against his skin like armor, a part of Arthur is still outraged at being handled by it at all. He doesn’t see Merlin, and returns to his dessert.

“Who are you looking for?” Peter asks. “A guy could get jealous.”

“Just curious if anyone I know is dining here tonight,” Arthur answers casually. He glances at his father, who has possessively wrapped an arm around Gwen’s shoulder. Gwen doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it, though, so Arthur turns back to Peter, who is suddenly closer than he was before.

“You’re very handsome,” Peter tells him. “We’d make a good match.” His voice gets lower. “I’ll let you fuck me tonight, if you want.”

Arthur can’t help the flinch, although he covers it as best he can. “It’s a bit soon for that, don’t you think? We just met.” He’s a little surprised to feel that he doesn’t want to fuck anyone. He doesn’t examine it, and continues, “I don’t jump in bed with people on the first date.”

“How gentlemanly of you,” Peter smiles.

When dinner’s over, Peter walks Arthur outside to the car.

“I hope you are as pleased with the promise of our union as I am,” Peter tells Arthur as he slides into the limo with him, evidently planning on going back to the mansion with him even though Arthur turned him down for sex. It makes Arthur angry. He has no intention of spending any more time with this man that evening. He turns and looks over his shoulder to see his father chatting with Gwen. A moment later and Gwen slips into the car with them.

“Father isn’t coming?” Arthur asks.

Gwen shakes her head, and Arthur can see she’s relieved.

Arthur is shocked to find that Merlin’s magic doesn’t leave him when the car pulls away from the kerb.

“This union seems a bit sudden,” Arthur tells Peter, finally addressing his comment from a moment ago. “No offense, but I honestly don’t see the rush.”

Peter puts an arm around the back of Arthur’s seat. It’s dark in the back of the limo, the only light coming from dim bulbs built into the interior of the car.

“I’m sure when you get to know me, you’ll come to like me quite a lot,” Peter tells him, chest pressed to Arthur’s arm.  Arthur tries to move sideways, embarrassed that Gwen is witnessing Peter’s behavior, but there isn’t room; he’s scrunched himself into a corner.

Gwen’s taken out her phone and stares at the screen as Peter runs a hand up Arthur’s leg. Arthur gets ready to leap over him, but as Arthur looks at Peter, Peter’s countenance suddenly begins to change. Arthur’s heart rate climbs, and he fights to hide his reaction. The magic still clinging to him seems to sense his distress and wraps about him more tightly.

Peter’s face, angular and handsome, morphs into sharper lines, eyes widening to an alarming degree until they take up two-thirds of his face. His nose almost disappears, and his mouth flattens to a small line with movable appendages. Arthur turns to look straight ahead a moment, schooling his features. _What type of alien is this,_ he wonders? It takes everything in him not to scramble out of Peter’s reach. He can’t move now. If he does, he knows he’s repulsion will show on his features. _This is no human from Trion, that’s for certain._

Peter seems confident that Arthur won’t notice his true form. He stretches out long, insect-like legs and plays with Arthur’s hair at the nape of his neck, leaning in to press a kiss to the tendon at the side of Arthur’s throat. Seconds tick by, Gwen shifts across from them, and Peter is once more a human.

Arthur shudders, closing his eyes. He feels Merlin’s magic cover his chest like a blanket, and he suppresses a shudder.

“Ouch!” Peter pulls back.

Arthur opens his eyes. “What?”

“You shocked me!”

Arthur swallows. “Must’ve been static electricity.”

Gwen looks at them both, brow raised.

The car enters the mansion gates and Arthur sits up, ready to jump out as soon as it comes to a stop.

“I have a terrible headache,” he tells Peter, opening the door before the limo stops rolling. He dashes inside, only to be pulled into a room the moment he hits the hallway.

“What the hell is your father up to?” Merlin hisses at Arthur when he gets the door shut behind them. They’re standing in the dark utility room, and Arthur can feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. All he can see is the awful features of Peter’s face when it changed.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten, Merlin pressing him up against the wall.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice comes softly in his left ear. “What’s wrong?” Arthur feels Merlin’s nose trail down the side of his face, and it doesn’t feel anything like Peter’s abhorred touch. “Talk to me, please.”

“He’s…he’s horrible. He isn’t from Trion, like father said. He’s a…some kind of…” Arthur shakes his head, unable to articulate that his father wants to unite him to a monster.

Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur, drawing him close. “My magic was going crazy.”

“Were you there? At the restaurant?” Arthur rests his hands on Merlin’s hips. He likes the way they’re narrow and that he can feel the bones under his palms.

“No,” Merlin says, hands moving over Arthur’s back to press him in close. Arthur takes a deep breath, and Merlin brings him in even closer. He can feel Merlin’s heart pounding through the walls of both their chests.

“How can that be? I felt your magic the whole time.” Inexplicably, Arthur doesn’t want to pull away. He doesn’t want to move. Ever.

“It split off somehow…it’s never happened before. It’s like I was there.” Merlin shakes his head. “I wanted to kill the bloody sod.”

Arthur pulls away then. “I can take care of myself.”

“Gods, I know that, Arthur. I can’t help what I’m feeling.”

“Did you see it, then? Him, I mean? In the limo?”

“I couldn’t see,” Merlin shakes his head. “I could only detect what was going on, if I concentrated. I got bits and pieces of conversation. Some of your emotions.”

Arthur scowls. “What are you feeling, Merlin? You hated me a couple of weeks ago.”

Merlin studies Arthur’s face. “I didn’t even know you, Arthur. I hated what your father did. What he’s still doing. I know now you had nothing to do with it. I judged you wrongly and I’m…” Merlin hesitates. “I’m sorry.”

“That seemed to be difficult for you,” Arthur says smartly. “Damn near stuck in your throat.”

Merlin clasps Arthur by the arms. “Fuck, you drive me crazy!” He smashes their lips together, and a fire ignites in Arthur’s groin. Merlin swings Arthur around, pressing himself into Arthur’s back, his sizable erection a hard lump against Arthur’s arse. “I still want to fuck you,” he tells Arthur, and Arthur shivers in reaction, loving the feel of Merlin’s body pressing him to the wall. Merlin bites Arthur’s earlobe and then licks it, and Arthur moves his arse backward, pressing into Merlin’s bulge.

Merlin gasps, grinding into Arthur, hands coming round and thumbs brushing Arthur’s nipples through the fabric of his dress shirt.

Arthur’s cheek presses against the cool wall, Merlin’s hot breath ragged in his ear. If Merlin pulls his trousers down now and takes him right there in the utility room, Arthur’s all right with it.

“Arthur?”

 _Fuck._ Fucking Peter has followed him inside.

“That wanker!” Merlin curses.

Arthur eases himself out of Merlin’s grip.

“He is not from this planet,” Arthur whispers urgently, adjusting his hard-on in his trousers. His eyes run over Merlin, whose high cheeks are flushed with arousal. Reaching out, Arthur presses a hand to the bulge in Merlin’s pants. “We’ll get to this later,” he promises, and then opens the door.

Peter has walked into the kitchen looking for Arthur, and he swings around, surprised, when Arthur appears, slightly disheveled, behind him.

“There you are!”

“I told you; I have a headache.”

“Yes, I know. But you left before I could give you this.” Peter takes a box out of his jacket pocket. He opens it, revealing an exquisite gold ring. “I’d like you to wear it.”

Arthur hears a noise behind him and turns to see Merlin standing there, rage written all over his face.

“He will _not_ be wearing your ring,” Merlin says coldly.

“And who are you?” Peter asks.

“I’m Merlin, and Arthur’s mine.”


	16. Power Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. So much going on right now.  
> Thank you so much for your comments! <3 I really appreciate them.  
> This chapter contains spanking, magical...uh, insertion, and a three-some. It contains a lot of sex and very little plot. Sorry?

 

Peter looks at Arthur, confused.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Arthur says, hand to his temple, which really is throbbing at this point. “I’m not his. Look, like I said before, things are going a bit fast. I know our fathers are eager for this match between us, but I’m not ready to wear a ring.”

Peter closes the box and puts it back in his pocket.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He glances at Merlin, who stands seething in the doorway. “You left the car before I could tell you that your father has graciously offered to let me stay here during my visit.”

“Of course,” Arthur says, ringing the bell for Gaius.

“Of _course,_ ” Merlin echoes, rolling his eyes. “This place is like a damn hotel!”

Gaius appears, and Arthur tells him to show Peter to a suite of rooms. Arthur purposely places Peter on the other side of the house from his own rooms.

“Yes, sir,” Gaius indicates for Peter to follow him.

As Peter passes Merlin in the doorway, Peter leans close to Merlin and hisses, “On some planets, behavior like yours gets them eaten!”

“Did you hear that?!” Merlin says to Arthur after Peter’s gone. He repeats it.

Arthur chuckles. “Well, your behavior was pretty bad.”

Merlin growls, eyes turning gold.

One moment Arthur is standing by the refrigerator, at least six feet away from Merlin, and the next he’s in Merlin’s arms, Merlin’s lips pressed against his in a kiss that wipes every thought from Arthur’s brain.

All Arthur can do is feel Merlin’s warm lips, strong hands pressed to his back, hard chest melded against his own, and that deliciously large bulge pushed into his hip.

Arthur moans into Merlin’s mouth, which has opened to delicately taste Arthur’s, tongues mingling in a dance that sends shivers down Arthur’s spine.

He pushes his fingers into Merlin’s soft hair, tugging at it, tilting Merlin’s head to allow Arthur to deepen the kiss. With his other hand, Arthur glides fingers to the small of Merlin’s back, feeling the strength there, while Merlin’s magic snaps and sparks around them.

Merlin slips Arthur’s suit jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He runs his hands over Arthur’s arms, kneading the muscles almost roughly as they continue to kiss, now more languidly. Merlin makes small sounds that bring Arthur to a granite hardness in his pants. He finds himself pushing against Merlin like a dog in heat, and blushes, pulling away a bit.

Merlin looks wrecked. “I need you, Arthur. My magic needs you.” He’s breathing hard. Arthur’s never felt so desired, and his annoyance at Merlin claiming him a moment ago fades. “There’s something you don’t know about me…”

Arthur’s mind reels. Every part of him wants Merlin right now, but he can’t give into this; not now, not yet. It’s got to be the magic doing this to him, and he won’t be manipulated anymore. He’s stronger than that. He lifts his hands and pushes Merlin away.

“Arthur, please…” Merlin pleads, taking a deep breath. “I’m Artemedian…my grandmother. I’ve never—I don’t. It’s just you doing this to me.”

Arthur stares. Artemedian? Isn’t that the planet where no one has any sexual desire and insemination only happens for procreation, and that’s usually in a lab tube?

“Are you saying you aren’t sexually active?” Arthur asks.

“I’m saying,” Merlin’s jaw tightens and his fists clench with frustration, “I’ve rarely had a hard-on, and the moment I laid eyes on you, my dick was straining the zipper. It made me so angry! Here I am, trying so hard to hate you for what your family has done, and immediately my magic and my _cock_ love the hell out of you!”

With his words, Arthur’s former feelings of helplessness fade, and a sense of empowerment takes over. He can’t quite believe what Merlin’s saying.

“You’ve really never been attracted to anyone before?” he asks, uncertain.

Merlin runs his hands over his face. “Arthur, I’m a fucking virgin!” He reaches down with shaking hands and unzips his khaki slacks, pulling them open and sliding down the white jock strap. His cock juts up, ramrod straight in a way that Arthur knows is painful. Arthur stares at the piercing gleaming at the head.

“I’ve been in this state almost constantly since we met,” Merlin says through gritted teeth.

Arthur steps forward and for the second time in his life, falls to his knees at Merlin’s feet.

Merlin moans, but holds perfectly still. Arthur stares at the long vein running up the outside of Merlin’s cock, just centimeters away. He breathes out, and Merlin whimpers. Yes, Arthur has the power here; he’s had it all along and just didn’t know it. He smiles.

“Bastard,” Merlin mutters, but then gasps as Arthur runs his hands up Merlin’s thighs and jerks his trousers down to his knees. He kisses the inside of Merlin’s bare thigh before grasping the jockstrap between his teeth and dragging it down, too.

Merlin’s chest heaves as though he’s been running, and he stares as Arthur brings his tongue out and begins lapping at his balls. Merlin’s legs begin to shake, and Arthur steadies them with his hands, feeling the magic running over his body, thickening the air around them as Merlin widens his legs and his nuts begin to tighten.

Arthur chuckles. He hasn’t even touched Merlin’s cock, and Merlin’s going to come. He continues licking, loving the taste of Merlin’s skin, and then takes one of the silky balls into his mouth, sucking on it.

“Holy fuck,” Merlin breathes, and Arthur feels the spatter of warm spunk on his cheek. “You bastard.”

Arthur gently releases Merlin’s nut and looks up at him.

“Awfully satisfied with yourself, aren’t you?” Merlin asks, eyes half-closed and body lax against the wall.

“Quite,” Arthur grins. Merlin’s magic seems to dance all around them.

The door opens and Alice appears, takes one look at Merlin sagged against the wall, trousers at his knees and long cock at half-mast, Arthur sitting on his heels at Merlin’s feet with spunk running down his face, and immediately turns her eyes to the ceiling.

“Our new guest has requested a late-night snack,” she says.

“Oh,” Arthur jumps to his feet, wiping his cheek off on his sleeve, while Merlin turns his back and fixes his clothing. “We’ll be out of your way then, Alice.”

They scramble into the hall, and Arthur can barely contain his exultant laughter, although a part of him is mortified.

“Fuck, Arthur!” Merlin says.

“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur calls over his shoulder, heading for his rooms.

“What the---“ Merlin’s voice holds surprise. “Wait!”

Arthur doesn’t stop, and when he rounds the corner, he hears Merlin cursing. Arthur smiles, but halts, foot poised above the next step when the distinct sensation of something warm and rather large slipping inside his arse hole sends a shudder running through his body.

“What the fuck?” Slowly he turns around, stepping around the corner and staring wide-eyed at where Merlin still stands, now smirking up at him, below on the landing.

“What is that?” Arthur asks.

“Just a little something to remember me by.”

“Merlin, what the fuck is it?”

“Just a magical plug. It’s holding my place,” Merlin tells him, grinning evilly.

“Holding your…Merlin! Get it out right now!”

“Make me,” Merlin says clearly.

“I’ll fucking make you…” Arthur starts down the stairs, the plug making it slightly difficult to walk. Every time he moves, it presses against Arthur’s prostate. Arthur grits his teeth.

Just as he reaches Merlin, Percy and Gwaine walk in the front door.

“The eggs!” Percy says. “I think one is hatching!”

***

“Tell me exactly what your dreams have been about,” Mithian says, taking a seat on the sofa. Morgause and Morgana sit together on the large chair, hands entwined.

Morgana swallows, thinking to the worst of her nightmares. “They begin with darkness, and screaming…there are these terrible beings…like huge bugs?” She shakes her head. “I know it sounds like some terrible sci-fi movie from the twentieth century.”

“Go on,” Morgause urges, leaning down to kiss where her T-shirt has slipped down to reveal Morgana’s bare shoulder.

“There isn’t a lot more except I get this terrible feeling that the magic-users have been left behind to die. And these horrible beings are taking over. I also feel…betrayed.”

Mithian raises a brow. “Do you know by whom?”

Morgana shakes her head. “But there aren’t a lot of people who can make me feel that way.” She looks at Morgause. “You. Or Arthur. Or my father.”

“And only one of those is a likely culprit,” Morgause says.

Morgana sighs. “I hate to think my father is doing anything that would hurt me.”

“He doesn’t know about your magic,” Morgause reminds her. “Maybe you should tell him.”

“I’m afraid,” Morgana replies.

“Of what?” Mithian asks.

“Of how he’ll look at me. He hates magic.”

“But he could never hate you,” Morgause tells her, eyes soft. “No one who knows you could.” She leans in and kisses Morgana softly on the lips, pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I’m glad the two of you made up,” Mithian says from the couch.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted,” Morgause tells her, tugging Morgana in close to her. Morgana’s left hand falls to the crevice between Morgause’s thighs and stays there. “I was jealous of you, but there were other issues. Morgana and I have talked them out.” She lets her own hand fall to cradle Morgana’s right breast, thumb softly tracing the edge.

“That’s wonderful,” Mithian smiles, eyes watching Morgause’s movements. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have any more sessions, though, Morgana. You’ve gotten pretty good as it is.”

“Do you think Gwaine would let me on the team?” Morgana asks, squirming just a little under Morgause’s touch, fingers clutching at the thin fabric of Morgause’s trousers.

“I think he might. You should definitely talk to him.”

Morgause moves her hand just a little so that her finger grazes Morgana’s nipple beneath the fabric of her T-shirt. It peaks quickly. Mithian watches.

“Mithian, Morgana and I have been talking. My jealousy had some foundation because I’m aware Morgana’s attracted to you physically. She’s told me so before.”

Mithian blushes. “Oh.”

“Do you find her attractive?” Morgause asks, lifting Morgana’s breast with her hand.

“Um,” Mithian glances at Morgana. “I’d be crazy not to, but I wasn’t…”

“I know,” Morgause says. “I’m not accusing you. This isn’t about that. Truth is, I find you very attractive myself. I don’t know how you feel about me, but we wondered if you might consider, well, having a three-some.”

“What?” Mithian asks, shocked.

“We’d understand if that’s too kinky for you,” Morgana rushes on to say, even though she can tell Mithian’s turned on by their seduction. “It’s just that neither Morgause nor I would consider doing it alone, and we both really like you. We’ve had a threesome once before.” She shrugged. “But we understand it isn’t for everyone.”

Mithian’s eyes are wide and round. She looks from one woman to another, her eyes falling back to where Morgause plays with Morgana’s peaked nipple.

“Is it that you don’t find me attractive?” Morgause asks, voice silky.

“Oh, no!” Mithian tells her “You’re beautiful! I’ve admired your…well,” she turns red. “Your arse, actually. But…” she bites her lip. “I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but I’ve never been with anyone before. Man or woman.”

Morgana and Morgause share a look.

“Really? No one?” Morgana asks. She can’t believe it. Mithian is so lovely…surely she’s had plenty of opportunity.

“You’re so pretty, Mithian. No one?”

“Thank you, really. But I’m a little shy, and still young. Twenty. I joined The Elite just out of school, and all the moving around has kept me busy.”

“Oi,” Morgause breathes. “So maybe a three-some is a little much for your first time, then.” She removes her hand from Morgana’s breast.

Mithian takes a breath. “I-I really want to, though. I trust you two.”

Morgana smiles. “I’m glad. We can make it good for you, if you do want it.” Something about the thought of deflowering Mithian is very, very sexy.

Mithian thinks a moment, her eyes running over the two women in front of her. “I do. I really do.” She smiles shyly.

“We’ll go slow,” Morgause promises. “Tell us when you don’t like something.”

“Can we do it now?” Mithian asks, standing up. “I’ll light some candles…put on some music.”

Morgause and Morgana share a look before nodding.

When the room is darkened and the candles are lit all around, the women slip off their shoes and regard one another.

“Any particular way you’d like to begin?” Morgana asks.

“I’d like to watch the two of you for a bit, if you don’t mind,” Mithian answers, curling up on the sofa.

Morgana smiles. She walks behind Morgause, lifting her heavy blonde hair and putting it over one shoulder, then begins unbuttoning her blouse from the back. She slips it over Morgause’s narrow shoulders and lets it fall to the floor.

“One thing I love about Morgause are her breasts. So lovely,” Morgana says, unclasping Morgause’s lacey peach-colored bra and slipping it off her. She slips her hands around and cradles the two large breasts, rolling the nipples between finger and thumb. Morgause sighs.

Mithian watches. “They are beautiful.”

“They taste good, too,” Morgana says. “Maybe later I’ll let you have a suck.”

Her hands move down to undo Morguase’s beige slacks, slipping them down. Morgause steps daintily out of them and stands in her lacy thong. Morgana gently turns her around.

“I believe you appreciate her arse?” Morgana slaps one pale cheek, and Morgause cries out.

“It’s lovely,” Mithian breathes.

“I think,” Morgana says devilishly, “that she deserves some punishment for calling me a bitch earlier. Don’t you, Morgause?”

Morgause nods.

“Mithian, sit up, please.”

Mithian does, looking unsure.

“Morgause, go lie over Mithian’s lap.”

Morgause dutifully spreads herself over Mithian so that her arse pokes up just over the girl’s lap.

Morgana walks over and gives the pale globes a heavy smack with the palm of her hand.

“As if I’d ever cheat on you!” she says sharply. Mithian looks on, mouth open and eyes wide.

Morgana spanks Morgause again and again while Morgause wiggles and squirms in Mithian’s lap. Then Morgana gets on her knees and presses kisses all over the reddened flesh. She takes Mithian’s hand in hers and drags it over Morgause’s bottom. “Go ahead; soothe it. It’s so soft.”

Mithian traces her fingers over the soft globes of Morgause’s arse until the woman bent over her trembles with need.

Morgana helps her to her feet.

“Ready to take this to the bedroom?” Morgana asks.

Mithian nods enthusiastically.


	17. Hatching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay. Work and everything else has been crazy lately! Thanks to you who have been commenting--I so appreciate it! <3

  
Lance stands looking dubiously into the incubator. “Are you sure it’s hatching?”

“It’s doing something,” Will replies.

Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine and Percy gather at the other side of the long clear container, looking in. Percy grabs the telescopic lens. “One of the cracks is definitely larger than it was before we left the room, Gwaine.”

“What the fuck are we going to do with it when it hatches?” Will asks. Everyone turns and looks at Arthur.

“I’d like to keep it from my father, if possible,” he says. “Once we identify the species, we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”

The egg shakes, and all eyes turn on it.

“Look!” Sefa exclaims.

One corner of the egg peels downward as though it’s being cut from within.

“Holy shit,” Will breathes. “Someone get Mithian…she’ll want to see this. I don’t think it’s going to look at all human.” They watch as a decidedly insect-like leg appears from the hole.

“I’ll get her,” Gwen volunteers.

She leaves the room and takes the back stairs, running straight into Peter coming from the second floor.

“Oh, excuse me,” he says. “Hello again! I was just looking for Arthur. He isn’t in his rooms.”

“Oh, he’s…around here somewhere, I’m sure,” Gwen smiles. “Excuse me.” She moves past him and walks casually down the hall to Mithian’s room, knocking softly with her knuckles. When she doesn’t get an answer, she uses the key.

“Mithian?” she calls out softly.

It’s dark except for several candles lit around the room. The door to the bedroom is ajar. Gwen walks toward it and then stops when she hears a distinct moan of pleasure followed by breathy giggles.

“Mithian?” she calls after clearing her throat loudly.

“Gwen?” Mithian’s voice is an octave lower than usual.

“Yes. You need to come. Er…I mean, uh. The egg-it’s hatching!” Gwen blushes, flustered.

“Fuck, are you kidding?” Rustling sounds and Mithian runs out of the bedroom clutching a sheet around her. “The egg is really hatching?”

Mithian’s hair is disheveled, and her mascara’s smeared under her eyes. Her lips look bruised from kissing and there’s a love bite on her neck.

Gwen simply nods, her eyes wandering back to the bedroom where Morgana appears in the doorway slipping her T-shirt on over her head.

 _Morgana and Mithian?_ Gwen can barely think before Morgause appears, completely nude. She begins picking up articles of clothing off the floor while Morgana and Mithian exclaim about the egg.

“I’ll, uh, see you in the lab,” Gwen says and makes her exit. She’s on her way back there when the front door opens and Uther Pendragon appears in the foyer.

“Gwen!” he smiles. “How lovely to see you’re still up.”

“Uther! I thought you went home.”

“I did, but I’ve decided to spend the night in my rooms here.” Uther puts his coat in a nearby closet. “Have you seen Arthur?”

Gwen can’t let Uther see what’s going on inside the lab. “I believe he’s gone to bed.”

“Well, I’ll get him up. There are some things I’d like to discuss.” Uther starts for the stairs, and Gwen shoots her hand out, grasping his arm.

“Why don’t we have a nightcap?” she asks, batting her lashes. She hasn’t changed out of the skimpy yellow dress she wore to dinner, and she pushes her breasts out provocatively.

Uther’s eyes immediately latch onto them. “Well,” he smiles, “that is tempting. Let me show you my rooms.” He steps aside for Gwen to precede him up the stairs.

She can feel his eyes on her arse with every step, and her heart beats wildly in her chest. All she knows is she must keep Uther from seeing that egg; that’s all that’s important. If she can find out any information, that’s a plus.

Uther’s rooms are spacious and lavishly decorated. Uther rings a bell and his private butler appears from an adjacent room.

“I’ll be staying here tonight, Thomas,” Uther tells the man, whose impassive face never changes as he takes Uther’s dinner jacket and tie and hangs them up.

Uther crosses to the bar and pours two glasses of bourbon, returning and handing one to Gwen. She smiles and thanks him.

“Excuse me just a moment while I get comfortable,” he tells her, and disappears around the corner with Thomas.

Gwen looks about the room, wondering if there could be anything of interest. She opens a couple of drawers and peeks into a closet before Uther comes back wearing a green silk robe, his hair-covered chest showing in the open V in front. Without preamble, he takes Gwen’s glass from her and pulls her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

Uther is an attractive man, and Gwen feels her body responding to him. She clutches at his shoulders as he continues to kiss her, lips moving over hers in a hungry, yet polished manner. He trails down her jaw and neck to the crease of her shoulder, running his tongue over her skin until she shudders.

She suddenly realizes his hands are planted firmly on her arse. She pulls away a bit, and he chuckles.

“Allow me to freshen your drink.” Uther steps back.

Gwen finds she’s a little wobbly on her legs and goes to sit on the sofa.

“Please, get comfortable,” Uther tells her, handing her the heavy crystal glass. He reaches down and slips her shoes off her feet, chucking them into the corner.

Gwen smiles, taking a sip of the bourbon. It burns her throat going down.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Uther tells her, taking a strand of it and twirling it around his finger. “So soft.” He smiles. “Tell me about yourself, Gwen.”

He’s seated himself beside her, and he’s so close, Gwen can feel every breath he takes.

“Well, there’s not too much to tell, really.”

“You’re a member of The Elite. How did that come about?”

Gwen feels sure that Uther knows---has researched every one of them—but she goes along with the ruse and tells him how she joined the team just out of nursing school.

“Do you enjoy working with people with magic?” Uther asks, and Gwen knows the question is loaded. On impulse, she lies.

“Not really,” she says, and Uther raises a brow.

“Oh? I imagine it would be exciting.”

Gwen goes with her gut instinct. She laughs. “Oh, Uther. It’s no secret that you hate magic-users.”

Uther’s face clouds over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you tolerate them,” she smiles and puts a hand on his knee. “But you don’t like them. I’ll tell you a secret.” She leans closer. “They frighten me a bit.”

“They do?” His words are neutral, but Gwen can see the interest in his eyes.

She nods. “I just never feel as though I can completely trust them. I’m glad there aren’t too many of them on the team.”

Uther leans back into the sofa. “What do you know about the Emrys man?”

“Merlin?” Gwen knows Uther is thinking about what Nimueh said and she doesn’t want to get Merlin hurt. “Oh, I think he’s probably the most harmless of all of the magic-users on the team.”

Uther frowns. “His magic has attached itself to my son.”

Gwen shrugs. “I’ve heard of that happening. He’s probably attracted to Arthur. Who can blame him?”

“Tell me,” Uther shifts on the sofa. “What do you think of Peter?”

Gwen suppresses a shudder. _Tell the man what he wants to hear, Gwen._ “He seems very pleasant. He and Arthur got on well.”

“Yes, they seemed to, didn’t they?” Uther smiles, pleased. “I think their union will be a good one.” He drains his glass and puts it down. Leaning toward Gwen, he places his hand on her bare knee, sliding it upward. “Enough talk, hm? I’ve been longing to get to know you in other ways.”

***

“Freya’s brother is an expert on insectoid species,” Mithian tells the group as she types a message on her mobile device.

“Is that what you think it is?” Gwaine asks. Merlin stares at Arthur, who’s gone pale.

“What’s the matter?” he takes Arthur’s hand, squeezing it.

“Insectoids?” Arthur asks hoarsely. “As in…aliens that are insects?”

“In part, yes.” Merlin nods. “There’s a galaxy that’s said to be full of insectoid aliens. We don’t know much about them.”

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur looks like he’s going to collapse. Alarmed, Merlin pulls him over to a chair and pushes him into it.

“Arthur…what is it?” Merlin’s magic is going crazy; Merlin feels like his skin’s on fire.

“Peter…the diplomat’s son. He’s…that’s what I saw,” Arthur swallows.

“You saw what?” he crouches at Arthur’s feet.

“I think my father meant for me not to see Peter’s true nature. He thinks I’m still under the spell. But I saw what Peter really looks like. I told you, he’s not human. He’s—I think he looks like an insect.”

Merlin leans back onto his heels. “What kind of insect?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” Arthur shakes his head. “He’s part human, too. I mean, he wasn’t all insect. It was just a brief glimpse, but I think…maybe a grasshopper?”

“Gwaine!” Merlin calls the team leader over and relays what Arthur just told him.

“Grasshopper?” Gwaine looks over his shoulder into the incubator where a spiked leg protrudes, waving about.

Just then, a knock and Peter’s muffled voice through the door makes all three men jump.

“Arthur? Is Arthur Pendragon in there?”

Arthur stands up. “I’d better go speak with him. We don’t want him in here.”

“Wait, Arthur,” Merlin says. He looks at Lance. “Lance, tell Peter you just saw Arthur go out back.” Merlin turns to Arthur again. “Go out this way.” He leads Arthur through a door and down the back hall. “Be careful…we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Arthur says.

Merlin grips Arthur’s arm, stopping him before he walks out the door. “I’ll take the magic plug out,” Merlin tells him softly. “Sorry. I forgot about it in all the excitement.”

“No,” Arthur surprises Merlin by saying. “Leave it. I want it there.” He turns and leaves.

***

Sefa stares at the odd thing painstakingly making its way out of the shell. If it’s really an insectoid, it will be one of the first seen in captivity. A thrill runs through her at the thought. She can’t help it; she’s always been interested in undocumented alien species.

Gathering her dark hair up, she pulls it into a ponytail, securing it with the elastic she keeps around her wrist. Merlin paces in the corner, looking like a caged panther, undoubtedly thinking about Arthur as he’s done from the moment the team landed in Camelot. It’s been kind of funny to watch, since Merlin is usually self-contained when it comes to matters of the heart.

Gwaine sits in a chair leaning against the wall, throwing a ball into the air and catching it over and over again. Percy stares into his microscope while Will watches the computer screen. Lance seems distracted, and Mithian has gone to make a pot of coffee. There’s a knock on the door and at Freya’s familiar voice, Stefa crosses the room to let her in. Standing slightly behind Freya is a tall man with sleek, dark hair and green, cat-like eyes—the slit pupils giving away his Gattoian heritage.

“This is my brother, Uriah,” Freya introduces him to the group.

Sefa has never met a Gattoian male before, and finds herself staring a little at the sleek tail that protrudes from a slit in the arse of his pants. A chill runs over her; he is handsome and very hot. His green shirt clings to his broad chest, hugging every line of it. She watches as he moves gracefully to the incubator and looks at the egg.

“My God, they weren’t kidding,” he breathes. “It is an insectoid. May I?” He looks to Percy, who nods. Uriah puts his hand through the glove attached to the incubator and touches the egg. The leg waves around at him.

As Uriah studies it, prodding at it, he says, “Definitely an alien spun off from the Dictyoptera family.”

“Meaning?” Gwaine asks. “Sorry, I’m not up on my bugs.”

“That would be cockroaches and mantids, and from the length of this raptorial foreleg and the spikes on it, I’d go with the latter.”

“Shit!” Merlin suddenly exclaims. “Of course! That’s what the kid said.”

“What kid?” Lance asks, confused.

“The one in hospital. From Essetir. He said, ‘praying.’ As in mantis. Praying Mantis.” Merlin looks at Gwaine. “We didn’t understand at the time.”

The room is silent a moment as everyone digests this bit of news.

“Do you mean to say,” Will finally says, “that this thing coming out of this egg is some kind of praying mantis bug? Like there’s a whole planet of bugs somewhere and they’ve come here to set up shop? Is that even possible?”

Uriah straightens up from where he’s been staring into the incubator. “These would be the workers. Just like bees and ants have workers, so do the residents of Mantodea in the Clox galaxy.”

“Clox…” Lance frowns. “That’s two galaxies away. Why would they come here?”

“Good question,” Uriah says. He looks back down at the leg still waving about, it’s tiny backward-pointing spikes threatening in the promise of things to come. Another small fissure in the egg has appeared. “It will take a while for this worker to break out.”

“How much do you know about the species?” Gwaine asks. Will is already typing away on his computer.

“The worker will not be contained in this incubator long. They grow quickly. You will have to move it to something larger. Its powerful jaws can bite through many materials.”

“There are hundreds of these eggs ready to hatch on Essetir,” Gwaine’s voice is strained. “This worker is the least of our worries.”

“Like its tiny ancestors, these aliens attack by grasping their victims with their powerful front legs and biting their necks,” Uriah explains. “They move with lightning speed. The workers in Essetir have been put there for a reason…probably to await direction from their Mantoid superiors.”

“Mantoid?” Gwaine asks, and Merlin suddenly moves closer.

“What’s a Mantoid, exactly?” Sefa asks.

“They are the rulers of Mantodea,” Uriah answers, running a hand through his thick hair. “They are more human-like in nature, but still have mantis qualities—although they are able to appear fully human. If you were to see them in their natural state, they have large insect eyes and movable appendages in the mouth. Their faces are elongated, as are their limbs.”

“They sound horrible,” Freya murmurs, and her brother nods agreement.

“They’re really quite frightening-looking.”

Sefa sees that Merlin’s gone white. “Merlin?”

Gwaine turns and juts out a hand to steady him.

“Arthur…that man with Arthur,” Merlin stammers. “Peter. Arthur said he saw him and that he looked for a moment like an insect.” Merlin pulls away and runs for the door, the rest of the group following him.


	18. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for those typos yesterday.  
> This bit is a little short.  
> Thanks to those who continue to encourage me with their comments. I would love to hear from you lurkers out there, even if it's just a hello!

 

When the group reaches the back patio, it’s to find Peter and Arthur sitting quietly and talking. They turn as one and stare at the panting herd of people crowding in the back doorway.

“What is it?” Arthur asks, and Gwaine puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, stopping him from blurting anything out.

“You…have a…phone call on the house phone,” Gwaine says.

“Oh,” Arthur rises from his seat and looks at Peter. “Excuse me, will you?”

Peter smiles pleasantly. “Certainly, Arthur. I hope you’ll come back out. It’s a beautiful night, and I’m not tired yet.”

Arthur gives a brief nod and goes inside. Merlin starts down the steps toward Peter, but Gwaine stops him, shaking his head. Instead, Uriah, Freya, and Sefa walk out and sit down across from Peter.

Merlin retreats inside where Arthur stands in the hallway with Will, looking curious.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asks.

“He’s from some planet of insectoids!” Will hisses as Merlin comes to Arthur’s side and surreptitiously slips his hand into Arthur’s, squeezing it. “Your old man is trying to marry you off to the enemy!”

Arthur blanches. “But why?”

“It’s some kind of alliance,” Gwaine replies, joining them. “We don’t want to give it away that we know just yet.”

“That thing in there is hatching, and you heard Freya’s brother…it’s going to grow fast. We’re going to have an all-out war soon.” Will’s face is red with excitement.

“I’ve been working on getting my own army together,” Arthur tells them. “I’ve contacted some of my troops that were never that happy with my father’s rule.”

Merlin looks at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, _Mer_ lin. I’ve always had the notion in the back of my head that something wasn’t right,” Arthur tells him. “I just didn’t know what. It might interest you to know that a few of them are magic-users.”

“It interests me,” Morgana says, coming to stand beside Arthur, Morgause at her side. “Arthur, that man…he’s been in some of my dreams, and not in a good way. Please be careful.”

Arthur nods. “I’d better get back out there before he comes in here looking for me.” He lets go of Merlin’s hand.

Merlin bites back the desire to demand Arthur stay right there with him and watches him go. He sighs with relief when, watching out the window, he sees Uriah, Sefa, and Freya fail to move from their seats and come inside, but rather stay and chat with Peter and Arthur. Peter puts a hand on Arthur’s arm, and with a flash of his eyes, Merlin gives the plug in Arthur’s behind a swift twist. Arthur jumps in his seat, and Peter pulls away. Arthur blushes, flustered, and sends a menacing look toward the back door.

Merlin smiles, his magic growing thick in the air. He feels it emanating off him and migrating toward Arthur, touching him as though with tiny kisses. Arthur looks as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He shifts in his seat, and Merlin heats up the plug with a surge of magic.

Arthur begins to sweat.

“Are you all right?” Sefa asks Arthur. He doesn’t look quite right.

“Fine,” Arthur says curtly, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

Sefa watches Peter talking to Arthur. It’s obvious that the Mantoid is attracted to Arthur, and it frankly creeps Sefa out. She half expects Peter to sprout wings and fly off with him, and the thought makes her want to both laugh and cry hysterically.

Uriah talks to the man easily, his cat eyes watching him like a predator watches its prey. Sefa has to admit that Peter seems a bit uncomfortable in Uriah’s presence, but it might just be that he wants to be alone with Arthur. Well, that’s just too bad. They aren’t about to let that happen.

Freya’s mobile rings, and she pulls it out of her purse.

“George wants me to meet him,” she apologizes to them. “Will you stay here tonight, Uriah? We can have breakfast together.” She looks to Arthur for confirmation.

“Of course,” Arthur nods. “There are plenty of rooms. He can take one on George’s floor.”

“Thank you,” Uriah nods.

“I think I’m going to head on to bed,” Arthur gets up a little stiffly. “Goodnight, Peter.” He smiles at the others and makes his way to the door.

Peter gets up from his chair. “I’ll escort you,” he says smoothly.

Freya follows, and Sefa finds herself sitting in the moonlight with Uriah.

“Are you chilly?” Uriah asks.

“A bit.” Sefa pulls her sweater closer around her. “I wish the moon were brighter. It just looks sick these days.”

Uriah nods. “It’s worrisome. Would you like to take a walk before heading in?”

Sefa nods, and they head out into the garden. Because the sun is closer to Earth than it used to be, only certain flowers survive its scorching summer rays. Now, in winter, nothing is alive, and the ground crunches beneath their feet. Uriah’s tail swings back and forth behind them, an odd distraction.

Sefa glances up at the house, so large and imposing. Coming from a poor family, it’s been amazing staying in the Pendragon mansion.

“Oh, my God…” she suddenly says, watching shadows pass beyond a third floor window.

“What is it?” Uriah asks, pausing to stand beside Sefa where she’s stopped, arrested.

“Gwen…she’s upstairs in Uther’s rooms. He’s here.” Sefa bites her lip. “Last I saw her, she went to get Mithian. She must have run into Uther and tried to distract him from what was going on.” She looks at Uriah. “Oh, Uriah, we’ve got to get her out of there!”

“What do you think’s going on?” Uriah frowns.

“Let’s just say Uther would like to take advantage of Gwen, and she’s less than excited about it. From what I just saw, she badly needs rescuing!” Without thinking, Sefa grabs Uriah’s warm hand and pulls him toward the house.

Sefa finds the back stairs. “My mother used to work in a house like this. They all seem to have servants’ entrances so that butlers and maids can get in and out discreetly.” She pulls Uriah through the dark corridor. “Shit!” She stubs her toe. “I can’t see!”

“Let me lead,” Uriah says, scooting past her in the dark, his body pressing against hers. “I have exceptionally good eyesight at night—Gattoian and all that.” She feels his tail skim her leg and sucks in her breath.

Uriah tugs at her. They pass several doorways with no sounds from within.

“Wait, I hear something,” Sefa stops, feeling for a doorknob. She turns it and peeks inside to find a half-dressed Freya sprawled on a bed snogging George, his cock in her hand.

“Oops,” she whispers, shutting it quietly. “You definitely don’t want to see that.”

“Just exactly what are we going to do when we find Uther’s room, have you thought about that?” Uriah whispers as they go.

“Er…no. Not exactly. Create a distraction, maybe?”

Sounds from behind the next doorway attract Sefa’s attention.

“That doesn’t exactly sound like she wants to be distracted,” Uriah murmurs, coming to a standstill so fast that Sefa runs into him. He wraps his tail around her, steadying her.

He’s right…Gwen’s moans are definitely those of a woman in ecstasy.

“Um…let me just have a look,” Sefa whispers, turning the knob. She doesn’t get the best view; mainly Uther’s arse pumping hard and Gwen’s feet hooked at the small of his back, toenails painted a pearly pink. Her pleas for completion grow louder as she rakes her fingernails down Uther’s broad back.

Sefa closes the door, feeling silly. “Well, then.”

They stand there a moment until Gwen’s squeal and Uther’s satisfied grunts fade. Then they head back to the lab.

“Where were you two?” Vivian asks. She’s got her feet propped on the table as she files her nails.

“We were looking for Gwen,” Sefa answers.

“Thank fuck!” Lance gets up from his computer. “Did you find her?”

“Oh, yeah, we found her,” Uriah says, completely unaware that he’s talking to a man who has quite the crush on Gwen. “She was…”

Sefa steps on Uriah’s foot. “She was in the bathroom upstairs. Not feeling very well, I’m afraid.”

“Oh…I hope she’s okay.” Lance looks worried.

“She is now,” Sefa assures him. “I think I’ll head to bed. Goodnight everyone.” She turns and winks at Uriah. “Goodnight, Uriah. It was nice meeting you.”

Uriah quirks an eyebrow at her and nods. “Likewise.”


	19. Merger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was lovely to meet a couple of lurkers. I love to hear what bits readers enjoy and what you don't. It helps me know what to linger on.  
> Sorry, kind of short, but M/A--yea!

 

“Okay, you’ve had your fun, take it out,” Arthur says, and with a flash of his eyes, Merlin removes the plug from Arthur’s arse. Arthur finds he misses the fullness, but says nothing. Merlin’s smirk is infuriating.

“Shut up,” Arthur says, pouring a drink. He finally got rid of Peter, who insisted on escorting Arthur all the way to his rooms, and here is Merlin. Although Arthur has to admit he was rather glad to see Merlin standing in his doorway, looking thunderously jealous.

“I haven’t said anything,” Merlin points out.

“It’s the look on your face,” Arthur says irritably.

Merlin sighs. “You can’t let that man-bug think he’s going to unite with you.” Merlin comes to stand behind Arthur, breath warm on Arthur’s neck. Arthur struggles not to shiver in reaction. He wants Merlin inside him so badly, it’s a physical hurt. Merlin’s magic reaches out to him, beseeching him. He shields himself from it and feels it backing away, chastised.

“I haven’t got a choice. Not while Father’s still in the dark about what we know.” Arthur downs the whiskey he just poured and sets down the glass. He turns to find barely an inch between himself and Merlin and can’t help the small gasp that escapes his lips. He stares into the brilliant blue of the other man’s eyes. “Ever heard of personal space?” he asks hoarsely.

“Not where you’re concerned,” Merlin says quietly, and leans in, brushing his lips against Arthur’s in a way that makes Arthur’s lips immediately part and his tongue slip out to meet Merlin’s, the silky wet warmth more intoxicating than the whiskey he just drank.

“Gods, I want you, Arthur,” Merlin breathes, and Arthur’s already racing heart goes into overdrive. His hands come up to clutch at Merlin’s shoulders. He wonders—if they give into this, might it tamp down the terrible arousal between them and allow them to concentrate on their mission in the days ahead? Perhaps Arthur should just give in to his desires, because as it stands now, there’s no doubt that every time he’s within twenty feet of Merlin, all he can think about is shagging him into the floor. Or rather, being shagged by him. Because that’s what Arthur wants. And there’s the rub, isn’t it? That’s why Arthur’s been holding back. He’s had too many things taken away from him, and he isn’t ready to be taken in that manner.

“On my terms,” Arthur whispers into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin pulls back and stares into Arthur’s eyes a moment before nodding.

Arthur smiles and begins unbuttoning Merlin’s shirt, enjoying the display of pale chest revealed to him inch by inch. He fingers the brown nipples, eliciting a small moan from Merlin, and Arthur leans in to kiss the crook of Merlin’s neck, feeling him tremble beneath his lips. Arthur sucks a mark there, then licks it with his tongue. He feels Merlin’s hands scrambling at Arthur’s belt buckle and he moves to give Merlin better access, stepping out of both trousers and briefs, having already removed his shoes upon entering his rooms. The flaps of his dress shirt tease against Arthur’s erect cock. He presses up against Merlin, allowing him to feel how much he wants him. Merlin groans, grinding his body into Arthur, pressing his hands against Arthur’s back as he simultaneously sweeps his tongue into Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur shudders with need. “Bed,” he mutters, pulling the shirt from Merlin’s shoulders and starting to work on Merlin’s belt.

Merlin nods, moving backward toward the double doors leading to Arthur’s bedroom. By the time they reach the large bed, Merlin is ridding himself of his pants, and Arthur has stripped himself of his shirt. They stand, naked, looking at one another hungrily. Arthur’s eyes linger on Merlin’s long cock, the piercing gleaming near the head.

“How do you want to do this?” Merlin asks, voice almost a growl. The sound of it sends a drop of pre-cum from Arthur’s cock.

“You on your back,” Arthur tells him, and he’s gratified when Merlin positions himself without a word. Merlin’s eyes widen as Arthur climbs over him, straddling him. Arthur still wants Merlin inside him, but he’s going to control things this first time. Lowering his head, he kisses Merlin hungrily, and Merlin meets him, lick for lick, nip for nip. “Can you lube me with your magic?” Arthur asks, breathless, and Merlin does. Arthur feels the warm wetness drip from him, and he moves down, dipping his head to suck Merlin’s cock.

Merlin gasps, legs jerking like a marionette. “Christ!” he breathes as Arthur runs his tongue over the piercing. Arthur removes his mouth with a pop and positions himself over Merlin, feeling both powerful and responsible because Merlin’s never done this before, and carefully slides over him, arching his back provocatively as he’s seen Mordred and other lovers do, but he’s never done himself until now.

The feeling is unlike any other, and watching Merlin’s face change as he enters Arthur is one of the sexiest things Arthur’s every experienced. Arthur feels as though he’s splitting in two, and the steel balls of the piercing slide against his inner tissue, finally pressing on his prostate and making him close his eyes and moan.

He feels Merlin’s hands run up his thighs and chest. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Merlin says reverently, limbs trembling, and Arthur opens his eyes to look at him as he starts to move. He pushes down on Merlin’s cock, fucking himself on it, desire and emotion running rampant within him. Arthur finds he can’t look into Merlin’s face for long without feeling he’s going to break, so he closes his eyes, leans back so that his hands are braced behind him on Merlin’s legs, and concentrates on riding him, stiff dick waving in the open air. When Merlin’s warm hand clamps over it and begins a slow tug, Arthur cries out and comes, unable to hold back.

Merlin pulls up his knees, planting his feet on the bed, and begins hammering into Arthur’s arse so hard that Arthur falls forward and grabs the headboard.

Merlin’s making desperate sounds, eyes clenched shut, hips working fast.

“Come on,” Arthur encourages raggedly, sweat slick between them, the erotic squelching noise of Merlin sliding in and out of Arthur’s slick arsehole loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Fill me up!” And Merlin pushes into him hard with a moan. Arthur feels his release, warm and welcoming, and he smiles, a laugh of triumph escaping him. A smattering of magic raises the hair all over Arthur’s body, and Arthur dissolves into giggles of relief, easing himself from Merlin’s body and falling into his waiting arms.

***

Uther lies in bed while Thomas cleans him up. Gwen has gone, and he can’t stop thinking about her. After he’d gone back to his city flat and Nimueh had graciously removed the spell from his balls (the bitch), he’d gone down on her and waited for her to decide it was time to go to her own flat and feed her cat. He pretended he was going to go to bed himself. Then, as soon as she was gone, he headed for the mansion.

It had been worth it. For, although he hasn’t been able to talk to Arthur yet, he did run into the luscious Gwen, who was obviously panting for it. She was so hot for Uther that it took very little persuading for him to get her into his bed. He still tingled at the thought of being buried deep within her young body. Her skin was dark and soft…he loved her musky smell and the way she cried out with he touched her. He’s never been so besotted with a woman. Thomas, who has been his manservant for a long time, pointed that out when Gwen left.

“Yes, I know. I could unite with this girl,” Uther says a bit dreamily.

“I would like to see you that happy, sir,” Thomas says, lifting Uther’s limp penis and washing it carefully. Uther bends his knees, moving them apart on the bed so Thomas can wash thoroughly between his legs.

“I would like to have breakfast with her tomorrow. Please leave a note under her door,” Uther instructs, turning over so that Thomas can wash his backside. Thomas is an exceptional butler. He sometimes will milk Uther’s prostate when Uther asks him to. Those sessions help Uther to de-stress in a way that nothing else will.

When Thomas is finished, he puts the bowl of soapy water away, dries and powders Uther, and covers him up.

“Goodnight, sir. I’ll leave the note for your lady friend.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” Uther is already half-asleep, thoughts of Gwen’s mouth around his cock moving him smoothly into dreamland.


	20. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erg. Sorry for mistakes. Sorry about saying Arthur had "skin" inside him, lol. Changed it to "tissue." That was another quickie chapter before work.

Uther awakens bright and early. When Thomas has finished dressing him, Uther walks into his outer rooms to find the Prime Regent of Essetir drinking tea and gazing out at the frozen garden below.

“They’re hatching,” Cenred says without preamble, and Uther stops in his tracks.

“Already?”

Cenred nods. “You promised to get me and my family out of here before it all happens.”

“I did,” Uther agrees. “I’ll arrange a ship to Trion. They’ll accept you there.”

Cenred makes a face. “Trion is a planet of pussies.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Uther tells him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stalks past Cenred and out the door, down to the stairs, pausing at the second floor and staring at Arthur’s door. He could speak to his son before breakfasting with Gwen, but such is his desire to see the young woman, he continues on down to her room.

Gwen must have received Thomas’s note because she’s up and dressed in an emerald robe, her long, curly hair falling over her shoulders. She blushes prettily when she sees him, and Uther thinks that this is the reason he feels the way he does; she is nothing like Nimueh. She is the only woman he’s met in all these years who is something like Carlotta and Igraine—pure and sweet and unassuming. It’s refreshing, as well as an enormous turn-on.

“Gwen,” Uther takes her hands and kisses each of them.

“The breakfast you had sent up looks delicious,” she says, leading him to the table where the dishes have been set out.

“They smell wonderful, too,” he says.

They sit down and Gwen pours the coffee for them. Uther admires her slim wrists and the curve of her breasts straining against the fabric of her robe. He can just see the outline of her nipples, and he remembers the feel of them between his lips. He has a sudden longing to sweep her off her feet and take her to bed.

“Gwen,” he clears his throat. “I know you’re a nurse, but…things are going to get very dangerous very soon. The eggs in Essetir are hatching.”

Gwen looks surprised. “Oh.”

“I would like to get you away from here.”

Gwen looks down at her plate. “I have a job to do.”

Uther can’t stand the thought of Gwen being harmed in any way, but he decides to save this argument for another time. He’ll have her forcibly removed if he has to. He begins to eat, and Gwen relaxes a little, talking of the restaurant the night before.

“I’m going to speak to Arthur about a few things,” Uther tells her after a while.

Gwen looks up at him from beneath thick, dark lashes. “I hope not any time soon,” she says. “I hoped you’d stay a while.”

Uther feels his crotch tighten. He really needs to talk to Arthur, though. He needs him to arrange for Leon to take Cenred and his family to Trion, and they need to discuss Peter. And then there are the hatching eggs…

“Perhaps you and I can get together again after lunch,” Uther replies, wiping his mouth and setting his napkin on the table. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed last night. It would have been nice to have you there with me when I awoke this morning. I really wanted you to stay.”

Gwen gives a crooked smile. “I had paper work; I explained.” She stands slowly. “But Uther…you don’t have to run off now, do you? I mean, did you really just plan to come for breakfast?” She pouts, loosening the tie of her robe. “I’ve thought about you all night long.” She moves toward him, straddling him in his chair. The smell of her bath powder is intoxicating. It fills Uther’s nostrils as he breathes her in. His hands slide up her legs, the warmth of her center pressing against the crotch of his pants.

“You vixen,” he says into her neck, and Gwen sighs as he pushes the silk from her shoulders, revealing her large breasts. “I suppose Arthur can wait.”

***

"Where’s Arthur?” Gwaine asks Merlin. “And why do you look like all the bones have been removed from your body?”

“He’s been shagged!” Will crows, looking Merlin over with knowing eyes. “It’s about time, mate. This virgin thing was getting a little ridiculous.”

Merlin collapses on the leather couch. “None of you can make me angry this morning—there’s no use trying. And to answer your question, Arthur’s gone to speak with his troops. He’s also expecting a communication transfer from Leon.”

Sefa takes a seat beside him. “So you finally discovered the joys of the flesh?” she teases with a grin.

“Sefa!” Merlin says with mock horror. “I expected more from you! But while we’re being naughty, what about the way you were looking at Uriah’s tail last night?”

Sefa blushes. “Shut up!”

Merlin laughs.

“I’ve heard their dicks are barbed,” Vivian says. “Wouldn’t that be fun to try out?”

“What?” Sefa looks shocked.

Vivian nods. “The blokes from Gatto. They have barbs on their cocks.”

“Ouch!” Gwaine looks horrified.

“So what?” Will scoffs. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Well, the barbs are made of the same thing our fingernails are…I think it’s kinky.” Vivian smirks. She raises a brow at Sefa. “I think Sefa does, too. Our nice girl isn’t so nice, is she now?”

Sefa only blushes a deeper red.

“Where is Gwen?” Lance asks, head popping up from his computer.

“Still in her room,” Vivian replies, pulling up her files on the screen and giving Sefa knowing look.

“Are you sure?” Lance glances at his watch. “It’s awfully late. She’s usually one of the first out here.” He stands. “Maybe I should check on her. She was sick last night, after all.”

Gwaine puts a hand on Lance’s chest, stopping him. “Better not, mate. She’s working.”

“Working,” Lance looks from one member of the team to the other, many of which won’t meet his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Uther’s with her, love,” Vivian says kindly.

“In her rooms? Do you mean to say…is she still trying to get information out of him?” Lance looks a little green.

“She distracting him,” Gwaine says, “and it’s very important that she do so.”

“Very,” Merlin stresses. “He mustn’t know that Arthur is on to him.”

There’s a knock on the door and Vivian crosses to open it.

“I’m looking for Arthur.” It’s Peter.

“He’s left the mansion,” Merlin tells him. “For a fiancé, you certainly don’t keep very good track of him.”

Peter scowls. “And you know a bit too much about him.”

Gwaine steps in front of Merlin as he stands.

“Sorry you missed him,” Gwaine says. “He had some work to do at the office.”

“Perhaps I’ll meet him there, and we can have lunch together,” Peter smiles, turning to leave. “I can’t wait to know him better.”

Merlin growls, and Gwaine grabs his arm, preventing him from following Peter.

“Cut it out,” Gwaine hisses. “You’re acting like a fucking guard dog.”

“I don’t want that arsehole anywhere near Arthur,” Merlin says.

“Well, you can’t follow them about. Arthur can take care of himself.” Gwaine looks over to where Lance is stabbing at his keyboard. “Lance, let’s you and I do some sparring outside. We could burn off some tension. Merlin, Will--you come, too.”

Sefa shakes her head. “These men.” She sits down with a cup of coffee, looking over the information she was able to find on the people of Mantodea.

Presently, Morgana pokes her head in the door. “Have you seen my father by any chance?”

“He’s in Gwen’s room,” Vivian says.

“Oh.” Morgana walks in and pours herself a cup of coffee. “What about Arthur?”

“He’s not here,” Sefa tells her. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Morgana shakes her head. “I just think it’s about time I tell my father about my magic. I just can’t seem to find him alone.”

“He’s become rather smitten with our Gwen,” Sefa tells her. “How do you think your father will react to your magic? I mean…you’ve hidden it all this time for a reason.”

“I kind of want Arthur there when I tell him,” Morgana replies. “Then again, Arthur told me what Father’s done to him…and Father will expect Arthur to act a certain way. It may be too much to expect of Arthur right now.”

“Have you thought that telling him might not be the best idea?” Vivian asks.

“What if it changes things, though?” Morgana says. “What if, because of me, he changes his mind about magic-users?”

Vivian looks at Morgana dubiously, but remains quiet. Sefa keeps her eyes on her computer screen.

Morgana sighs. “It sounds ridiculous even to my ears.”

 

***

Uther is a skilled lover. At first, Gwen thought she was going to have to fantasize about that man she had the one-off with last June, but the night before, in Uther’s rooms, Uther had her writhing on his silk sheets and begging for it in an embarrassingly small amount of time.

What was really weird and oddly erotic was when Gwen came out of her lust-induced fog long enough to realize that the reason Uther always had lubed fingers and a ready condom was because his butler Thomas was quietly and inconspicuously handing them to him. Which meant that the man witnessed everything they did, which was a lot.

She blushes at the thought of it, even as she clutches the wooden post lodged between her breasts as Uther drives into her from the back, lifting her feet from the ground with every thrust, her clit brushing against the intricate carvings on the bedpost and driving her closer to completion.

When it’s over, she’s sweaty, her long hair sticking to her neck and back. She clings to the post, trembling; Uther saw that she came before he withdrew to find his trousers.

“I must be off to speak to Arthur,” he says, giving her arse a playful smack, and Gwen hopes she’s bought enough time for Arthur to get out of the mansion.

She crawls onto the bed on shaking legs and sprawls out, winded. For an older man, Uther is in good shape.

He comes to bend over her, leaning in to kiss her lips. “You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, Gwen,” he tells her. “I wish I had time to eat my seed out of you.” His eyes roam over her body and Gwen’s own eyes suddenly widen.

“Fuck!” she says, sitting up and almost smacking heads with Uther.

“What is it?”

“You didn’t use a condom!”

“I’m clean,” he says. “I’ll test if you’d like.”

“But I’m not on anything!” Gwen says. “No birth control!”

Uther looks momentarily surprised. “No? But most young women have the implant.”

“I’m allergic!” Gwen squeals. “Oh, my God! I forgot all about it! Shit! I need to do something about this, but…I don’t really believe in taking something to get rid of a possible pregnancy.”

“Stop worrying.” Uther sits down beside her and takes her hand. “You don’t even know if you’re pregnant, but if you are, Gwen,” his face softens. “Well, I would be the happiest man in the world.”

Gwen’s heart constricts at the same time her stomach falls.


	21. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, my sweet commentors, and especially those of you who are less comfortable but who came out of lurk-zone to say hi and let me know what it is you enjoy. I do like to know what to spend more or less time on. I think many are not so interesting in Morgause/Morgana/Mithian menage a trois, so I've left that to the imagination. if I feel even one or two want something, though, I don't mind writing a scene or two here or there.  
> Leon will be back so, for those of you who want more "Weon," lol. Here's so Gwen/Lance, though you may not like it if you ship them! I'd love to hear from more lurkers!

 

“Leon, are you certain it’s habitable?” Excitement pulses through Arthur’s veins. Is it possible everything might work out after all? He’s been filled with doubt and trepidation ever since he found out his father’s been manipulating him.

“Yes, Arthur,” Leon both sounds and looks irritated. The transmission isn’t the best, but Arthur couldn’t chance using the good equipment in the communication room—too many of Uther’s trusted people could see him. Instead, he’s holed up in one of the old store rooms using last decade’s junk. The signal’s good enough for him to see the lines of exhaustion on his friend’s face, though.

“I’m sorry; I know you know your stuff,” Arthur says. “I’m just in a bit of a hurry. I’ve found myself betrothed to an insectoid.”

“What?” Leon says, leaning toward the screen.

“Leon, these things are hatching. The species has been isolated—from the Clox galaxy. My father wants to unite me with their prince, although Uther wants me to believe he’s a diplomat’s son from Trion. They are insectoids from Mantodea. Heard of it?”

“No.” Leon pulls his computer over and begins typing. Arthur continues talking.

“My troops are at the ready, and I’ve just spoken to Freya—told her to round up as many magic-users as she can, as quietly as she can. George has found confirmation that Uther and the Mantodeans plan to wipe out the magic-users. It seems that the worker species in the eggs have quite a taste for them, if they can get close enough. Uther’s counting on the population being unaware.”

“That bastard,” Leon swears. “Fuck, Arthur…” his eyes widen. “This is what your father has put on Earth? They’re horrifying! What the hell?”

Arthur nods. “I’m afraid so. Leon, get back here as soon as you can. We are going to have a ship ready and get every magic-user we can to the planet you’ve found. They are our first priority.”

“And then?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know why my father thinks living with Mantoids is better than living with magic-users. I’m not sure what the rest of the planet can expect.” He hears footsteps in the corridor outside the room. “I’ve got to go.” He ends the transmission and stuffs the communicator in a box.

Slowly, he inches the door open, peaking into the hallway. As soon as the coast is clear, he slips out and walks briskly down the hall, rounding the corner.

These days Arthur feels as though all eyes are upon him, although logically no one has any reason to know what he’s up to. Emotionally, he’s a mess. His father has betrayed him, he has deep feelings for a man he barely knows, and the presence of a comforting magic hovers about him constantly. Arthur’s found that he can send the magic away if he so chooses, but he prefers to keep it with him. It snuggles up to him like a pet, dozing, always ready to awaken and respond to his emotional needs. It’s odd, yet completely right. And Arthur finds it so obviously an extension of Merlin, that it strengthens his budding feelings for him.

Arthur can’t stop thinking of the night before and how it felt to be full of Merlin. He’s still sore today from what they did together, and he likes the constant physical reminder of their joining. And afterward…lying in Merlin’s arms all night long…awakening on and off, always to be held, feeling cherished. It was absolutely nothing like sleeping with Mordred or anyone else Arthur has ever been with.

Arthur’s heart clenches, missing Merlin as he nears his office, and Merlin’s magic stirs within him as if to say, _I understand. I’ll be with you soon._

When Arthur enters his office, the magic realizes there’s someone there before he does, springing to life and raising the hair on the back of Arthur’s neck.

Peter sits on the leather sofa by the window, staring out at Camelot.

“It’s a beautiful city,” he says. “Just like its Regent heir.” He gives Arthur a chastising look. “You’re a difficult man to pin down.”

“I’ve been busy,” Arthur says, still standing near the doorway. Peter looks so human, it’s difficult to remember what he really is.

Peter stands. He wears tanned slacks and a very white shirt, open at the neck. His skin is a toffee color and flawless, his jawline sharp. He has the sensuous mouth of a woman. “If we are to be united, we need to get to know one another better. Did your father tell you that he and my father have arranged to dine with us tonight?”

“I haven’t seen my father since dinner last evening,” Arthur tells him, pushing Merlin’s magic back as it tries to nudge him out the door. He takes a deep breath, summoning his energy, and shields himself from it.

Peter walks toward Arthur, moving past him to shut the door quietly, the faint, spicy scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Arthur gets a brief glimpse of Peter’s true form and shudders, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels Peter’s breath on his neck.

Arthur knows he must play this part long enough to get the magic-users off the planet safely. He allows Peter to tangle their fingers together.

“I’m very attracted to you, Arthur,” Peter says into his ear. “I hope you feel the same.”

Numbly, Arthur nods. When Peter’s lips meet his, Arthur’s stomach rolls, but he remains still, summoning the strength to move his mouth enough to be called a response. Peter moves his hands to Arthur’s waist, and Arthur can only hope his trembling will be taken for desire and not the utter revulsion that it is.

When Peter’s tongue enters Arthur’s mouth, the electrical line along the ceiling suddenly bursts, sending sparks showering over them. The men jump away from each other, ducking their heads.

“Fuck!” Peter swears, opening the door. Arthurs steps gratefully out into the office, where a few people have gathered, including Freya.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Some kind of electrical problem,” Arthur answers. Peter stares into the room at the ceiling, a frown upon his face.

“I have never seen such a thing happen!”

“I’ll call maintenance,” Freya says. “Arthur, you’re wanted in your father’s office.”

Arthur turns and heads that way, and Peter rushes to fall into step beside him. Arthur sets his jaw, wanting more than anything to wipe Peter’s kiss from his mouth.

“Arthur! There you are. You’ve been so elusive,” Uther says, standing from behind his gigantic cherry wood desk that cost a fortune. Wood isn’t easy to come by, but Uther insisted upon having it.

“That’s what I told him,” Peter says, taking Arthur’s hand and kissing it. It takes everything in Arthur not to cringe and pull his hand away.

Peter continues, “I’ve told Arthur about our dinner tonight. Is my father here?”

“He arrived at the mansion just as I was leaving,” Uther smiles. “I must say, the two of you look wonderful together.” He leans down and presses a button. George immediately appears from another door.

“George, allow the press in now, if you please,” Uther tells him.

“The press?” Arthur says.

“Of course, Arthur. I’m the Prime Regent, and you’re my son. This is big news.”

Peter squeezes Arthur’s fingers. “How exciting. Oh—perhaps you’ll want to wear my ring now.” He  gets it out of his pocket, and with Uther standing there, Arthur has no choice but to allow Peter to slip it on his finger.

***

“Uther thinks he’s going to ship me off to Trion,” Cenred says, leaning back on his hands, watching lazily as Mordred sucks him in. “He thinks he’s just going to push me aside after all I’ve done for him---send me off to that planet of pussies.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through Mordred’s thick hair before grabbing it at the back and forcing Mordred’s nose all the way to the base of Cenred’s cock.

Mordred makes a strangling noise, drool running out the sides of his mouth, but holds the position, breathing deeply from his nose.

Cenred pumps his hips a few times until Mordred’s eyes roll back, and then he lets go, allowing Mordred to pull all the way off.

“On the bed,” Cenred orders, and Mordred scrambles up, pushing his trousers down to his knees with shaking hands.

Cenred spreads Mordred’s cheeks and spits on him, pushing the saliva in before climbing on the bed and spearing him with one sharp thrust.

Mordred yells, and Cenred grabs him by the throat, covering his mouth with one hand. “Shut up! You’re too loud.” He thrusts again, and Mordred grabs at the sheets, pushing back eagerly.

“Such a slut, Mordred. I think I can find a place for you by my side.”

Mordred mutters into Cenred’s hand, sweat breaking out on his brow as Cenred speeds up the pace.

“I’m not going to…fucking…TRION!” Cenred pushes in hard. “And sit there…doing…NOTHING! While…UTHER…has it…ALL!” He punctuates his words with juts of his hips.

Tears pour out of Mordred’s eyes, but he wiggles his arse and pushes back into Cenred for more.

“Those bugs promised him….the…whole…PLANET! Just to…. FEED a shitload of new offspring. And part of it should be…MINE! Uther’s fucked me…OVER!” Cenred moans, pulling out and splattering over Mordred’s arse. Mordred snivels into the sheets.

“You’re going to help me, Mordred,” Cenred says, pushing the other man over so that he’s lying on his back. “Aren’t you?” He takes Mordred’s cock in his hand and begins to pump it, using his own spunk for lube. Mordred nods, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He jerks and comes with a long, mournful cry.

***

“Percy!” Lamia’s surprised to see him at her door. “Do you have something else you need me to look at?”

Percy walks into her small house. He’s so large, he takes up most of her foyer.

“Lamia, there’s danger coming for magic-users. I want to get you to safety.”

“What?”

“You need to round up all your friends and family who have magic and meet me tonight.” He hands her a piece of paper with the location. “Take only what is most important to you. You won’t be coming back here.”

“Percy, what are you talking about?”

Percy steps closer to her, looking down into her face. “Lamia, you have to trust me. If you stay on this planet, you’ll be dead in a matter of weeks. Maybe days. You cannot trust Uther Pendragon, but you can trust his son, Arthur. He’s going to get the magic users off the planet to a safe place. The names of all the people you can trust are on that paper. Please…just do as I say. You do trust me, don’t you?”

Lamia stares into his eyes before nodding mutely. Percy leans down and kisses her. She clings to him a moment before letting go.

***

Gwen stares at the hatching egg in its new, larger container with reinforced walls. Two of its legs are out, the weird backward spines fascinating yet horrific to look at.

“Gwen,” Lance puts a hand on her arm. She turns to find his soft, dark eyes on her.

“Oh! You startled me, Lance.”

“Sorry.” He looks into her eyes, face concerned. “Are you all right?”

“As well as I can be under the circumstances,” she says, thinking of the aliens; and Uther; and the fact that she could be pregnant. She knows that she could take a test. Should take a test.

“I think you’re very brave,” Lance tells her.

Gwen looks away. How brave is it to accept pleasure from someone?

Lance moves his hand up her arm. “I’ve always admired you. You’re so good, kind, and gracious. Selfless.”

“Lance, don’t.”

“I mean it. You’re all those things and more. Like some kind of angel.”

Gwen shakes her head. She’s not. She’s really not. She feels tears pricking the backs of her eyes.

“Gwen.” Lance turns her face and covers her mouth with his, kissing her warmly.

After a moment of sinking into him, Gwen pushes him away. “Why are you doing this now?”

Confused, Lance frowns. “What do you mean, now?”

Gwen huffs, exasperated. “You’ve never made a move, and now…when I’m in the middle of this mission…you kiss me? Why?”

Lance swallows. “When I…imagine us finally being together, I always think of a perfect place. Someplace beautiful. And it’s never happened. There’s never that place. And now, when I feel you threatened—all I want to do is be with you. Please, Gwen.” He leans down, pressing his soft mouth to hers, and it’s different from Uther’s. Gentle, coaxing. Slowly, she wraps her arms around his neck, feeling her loins heating up and anticipation coiling in her stomach.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect,” Lance groans sincerely into her neck as he sprinkles kisses there. She’d like to be those things for him; now that the world is probably ending. Gently, she takes his hand and leads him to the back door, up the stairs to her rooms.

Lance takes a long time kissing and stroking Gwen. He seems surprised when she touches him between his legs and after a moment, pushes her hands away, spreading her out on the bed like an idol to worship. He kisses down her body, carefully spreading her clothing open. Gwen bites her lip, wanting him, wanting more. Wanting to move things along.

“Lance,” she whimpers, and he shushes her. Gwen impatiently pushes him away and sits up, pulling her blouse off and unsnapping her bra.

Lance’s eyes widen as she lets her heavy breasts fall. He clears his throat and taps the corner of the table so the lamp will go off. She hears him removing his clothing, her heart hammering in her chest all the while. She just wants to touch him. When Lance’s mouth circles her nipple, she arches her back and cries out.

“Shh, Gwen, it’s okay.” He kisses down her belly, but just as he moves toward her panties, he stops and come back up to kiss her mouth.

Gwen presses her body into Lance's, slick with need. She raises her leg and wraps it around his hip, hands moving greedily along his toned, muscular back. She can feel his arousal against her thigh. Finally, he presses it to her sex, sliding it in carefully. Too carefully. It’s disappointingly thin, and Gwen pushes up, trying to get the fullness she desires. Lance sets a maddeningly slow rhythm, and Gwen clutches at his arse, moaning.

“Shush,” Lance soothes.

“Stop shushing me, and fuck me already!” Gwen snaps, slapping his arse, and Lance picks up the pace. Gwen bucks into him, sliding her fingers between them to pleasure herself until she’s writhing, her mind drifting to earlier when Uther pressed a finger to her anus as he fucked her. She comes with a loud cry, squeezing Lance’s climax out of him with the grip of her inner muscles.

Too late, she realizes she again forgot about condoms.

“Well, shit,” she collapses back on the bed.

Lance is already snoring beside her.


	22. Plans

Arthur watches Peter’s father, a rather fat man with large, watery eyes, eat a celery stick with quick munches of his teeth. Arthur’s mind’s been elsewhere, mostly on Merlin’s magic, which has settled around him but remains quiet. It seems so familiar to Arthur now,  it nudges at his memory. It’s as though Arthur recalls it from long ago…when he was a child, perhaps. Before Uther’s damaging brain- washing. Could that be possible? Arthur must remember to ask Merlin if it could be.

Peter touches Arthur’s hand, and Arthur looks over at him, startled.

“So far away,” Peter says. “What are you thinking of?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Nothing in particular.”

“The union should take place as soon as possible,” Uther says. "I have something special planned for the fifteenth, but the next weekend is free."

Arthur’s stomach turns. The fifteenth is only days away, making the weekend very close.

“What do you have planned?” Arthur asks, trying to seem as firm and resolute in his father’s plans as always.

“It’s something special for magic-users,” Uther replies, eyes excited. He leans forward. “Arthur, I’ve wanted this to be a surprise for you, too, but…well, the fact is, I’ve had a change of heart.”

Arthur swallows, his last bit of food getting lodged in his throat.

“What?” He takes a sip of wine.

Uther laughs heartily. “Ever since The Elite has come to help us, I’ve been thinking…magic-users. They aren’t the enemy! I’ve been wrong. And I want to announce this and make it up to them by offering them all a little something. I’ve invited them all to a gala on the fifteenth. The invitations are out.”

“But Father…” dread fills Arthur’s stomach. Is this how is father plans to get all magic-users in one place?

“I know it must seem sudden, Son, but believe me, I’ve done a lot of thinking about this,” Uther tells him. He looks over at Peter’s father. “Frederick has helped me see reason.”

“Of course, but, how do you…” Arthur ventures. “I mean, will they trust you?”

“I’ve asked Julian Brightwith to make an announcement. The people trust him.”

Brightwith, a powerful sorcerer, is an enemy of Uther’s. How in the world did Uther get him to agree? Perhaps Brightwith only jumped at the chance for peace, but to trust Uther? Uther must have some hold over him. Arthur would love a chance to talk to with him.

“Shall we dance, Arthur?” Peter asks, rising from his chair and holding out a hand.

Arthur would rather not, but he doesn’t really have a choice. He allows Peter to lead him to the dance floor and enfold him in his arms.

***

“Merlin, if you don’t stop that pacing, I’m going to tackle you to the ground,” Percy threatens. “You aren’t the only one here who’s feeling edgy.”

“You don’t understand,” Merlin says, stopping in front of Percy. “I can feel Arthur’s emotions. He’s revolted and agitated and worried. My magic is having a fit, which must mean something’s going on, and here I am, unable to do a thing about it! That insectoid has his paws all over him.”

“Actually, _paws_ would be incorrect terminology for an insect…”

“Shut it, Will!”

“So distract yourself, yeah?” Percy suggests. “Pacing a trench into the floor isn’t helping any.”

Gwen sits quietly making notes from the computer.

“I bet you’re glad old Uther didn’t ask you to go along, aren’t you, Gwen?” Percy asks.

Gwen looks up. “What? Oh, yeah.” She nods and goes back to what she was doing.

Vivian leans over Sefa where she’s staring at her computer screen. “Find anything new on the Mantoids? What’s this? Sefa!”

Sefa jerks around, surprised, before trying to change the screen.

“You’re looking at the Gattoians!” Vivian barks a laugh. Sefa turns crimson.

“I only just pulled it up. Did you know their tongues are sandpapery?”

Vivian’s eyes grow wide and she sits down beside Sefa. “No shit? Imagine what that would be like if he…”

“Girls!” Gwaine barks, shaking his head. “Back to work, please!”

“Look who’s not getting any,” Vivian mutters, going back to her seat at her desk.

“I’m going up to Arthur’s rooms to wait for him,” Merlin announces.

“What if he brings Peter there?” Gwaine asks.

“He’d better not!” Merlin’s eyes flash for a moment and the door opens for him, slamming shut as soon as he’s walked through it.

George and Freya rush through the door on the other side of the room just moments later.

“George has something to tell you,” Freya says to Gwaine, a bit breathless.

“Uther’s been very secretive,” George says, taking a seat. Gwen passes him a bottle of water, and he takes a sip. “He gave me a bunch of invitations to send out yesterday, but he hadn’t asked me to have them made up or anything, which I thought was strange. I kept one of them back, but he’s had me running here and there and I’ve only just had the time to take a look at it.” He passes an envelope to Gwaine.

“A gala?” Gwaine says, staring down at the fancy card. “For all magic-users…promising to make amends. What the hell?”

“He’s gathering them all together!” Freya explains.

“To exterminate them,” Percy says slowly.

“Oh, my God,” Gwen whispers, and Lance comes to stand behind her, hands on her shoulders.

“Gwaine!” Elyan rushes in from an adjoining room. “There’s a broadcast…” he hurries over to a computer and hits a few buttons before swinging the screen around for all to see. A tall, nice looking man stands making a speech. “He’s Julian Brightwith, a sorcerer.”

“Oh!” Freya breathes, leaning forward. “This broadcast extends to all colonies, and invites all Prime Regents and magic-users.” They listen for a few moments as Brightwith encourages all magic-users of Camelot to come out of hiding and attend the gala, assuring them that Uther Pendragon is sincere in his wish to make peace with them and to recompense them for their mental anguish from years of hiding.

 “Holy fuck! If I didn’t know better, that would be enough for me to believe. Julian Brightwith! How do you suppose Uther got him to do it?” Freya looks at the stunned faces around her.

“Money?” Percy suggests.

“I doubt he could be bought,” George says. “Not Brightwith. Mind-controlling drugs? Blackmail?”

“He does have a wife and young children, as well as an elderly father,” Freya says. George immediately begins typing on his Telroid.

Gwen worries her bottom lip. The results of her pregnancy test were positive. Could she be carrying the baby of such a monster? She’d like to believe that there’s good somewhere in Uther.

“Perhaps it’s time for Morgana to speak with him,” she says. “He can’t exactly have her executed for being magic in this light.”

“That’s true,” Sefa replies. Uriah enters the room, and her heartbeat picks up. She finds him so attractive; she really can’t help herself.

“Go speak with her, Sefa,” Gwaine suggests. Sefa nods.

“What’s going on?” Uriah asks.

“Would you like to go with me? I’ll catch you up on the news,” Sefa offers, and Uriah agrees.

Morgana and Morgause’s flat isn’t very far away. By the time they arrive, Sefa has told Uriah everything she knows.

“Fuck,” Uriah breathes. “Do you suppose knowing his daughter has magic will make the difference?”

“I don’t know,” Sefa says. “We can only hope.”

They ring the bell, and Morgana answers, surprised to see them there. She’s dressed in a bright red robe, and her feet are bare. She serves them wine as they wait for Morgause to come out of the shower so they can update them both together.

Sefa’s a bit shocked when Mithian appears from the bedroom, wrapped in a silk robe that matches Morgana’s, but she makes no comment. Morgause appears a moment later in T shirt and thong. Her eyes widen when she sees Sefa and Uriah in the living room.

“Oops—didn’t realize we had company.” She swerves back to the bedroom and returns wearing a pair of track pants. Sefa wonders if Uriah is imagining the three-some that must have been taking place before they arrived, just as she is. She finds she can’t meet his eyes.

When everyone is seated, Sefa relays the news.

“Oh, my God…” Morgause murmurs.

“Now’s the time,” Mithian says, looking at Morgana.

Morgana takes a deep breath. “I suppose it will have to be tonight.” She stands. “I’ll go get dressed.”

“There’s no real hurry—your father is out with Arthur and Peter and his father,” Sefa tells her, standing herself. “We’ll see you at the mansion.”

She and Uriah leave, and the two of them remain quiet for several long moments of the drive back to the Pendragon mansion.

“Oi,” Uriah finally says. “Those three together…I wouldn’t have imagined.”

Sefa lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Yeah. When Mithian walked out of the bedroom, it took everything I had to act normally!”

“Me, too,” Uriah laughs.

“The three of them…” Sefa laughs.

“Adventurous,” Uriah agrees.

Sefa looks over at Uriah, and suddenly the air between them is charged. Uriah’s cat-like eyes rake over Sefa’s body, and her skin sparks in reaction.

She looks away and continues driving.

At the mansion, Sefa reports to Gwaine that Morgana will be coming to talk to her father. As she leaves the room, she says to Uriah, “There’s a heated pool on the fourth floor. Fancy a swim?”

She turns and walks that way, fairly certain that he’s following her. She’s never been so bold. When she arrives in the pool area, she begins stripping off her clothes before she can chicken out, hoping that Uriah will join her.

Once naked, the cool air tickling her skin, Sefa makes a perfect dive off the side of the pool into the deep end and swims to the other end where she surfaces to see Uriah swimming swiftly toward her.

When his head pops up, dark hair slicked back, he immediately covers her mouth with his, lips slippery and warm. Sefa wraps her hands around his neck, kissing him back, nipples brushing his chest enticingly. When his tongue enters her mouth, the sandpapery texture makes her gasp. She presses her breasts into his chest, which is covered in dark hair.

Uriah’s rather hairy all over, which Sefa assumes is a Gattoian trait. She reaches down and grabs hold of his tail, stroking it, and a resonating purr rises in his chest. Uriah lifts her up, and Sefa winds her legs around his middle. Opening his mouth wide, Uriah deepens their kiss, his scratching tongue doing amazing things to her.

His hands wander over her body, and Sefa moans into his mouth, a rush of pleasure making her wet inside. He moves his lips to her neck, brushing the sensitive skin there with his rough tongue, moving downward to take a rosy nipple in his mouth.

“Oh!” she cries out, arching in his arms. Her voice echoes in the room. Sefa feels his erection poking at her.

“Have you tested recently?” she asks him, and he nods.

“Clean. I swear it.”

“Me, too.” She isn’t usually this reckless, but what the hell. Their skin is wet and silky smooth against one another, sensual and provocative. Uriah kisses Sefa and murmurs, “You know I’m Gattoian…and barbed. It’s going to feel different.”

Sefa nods, and he reaches down and places the tip of his cock at her entrance. He pushes in, grasping her leg. He’s big, and it’s a lot to take. It feels good, though, and Sefa moans.

“You’re beautiful,” Uriah says, kissing her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed, and she leans her head back. Uriah begins to lick her neck, the roughness of his tongue combined with the feeling of his large cock inside her sending tremors through her body. She feels stretched, open.

When Uriah pulls out a little, Sefa feels the scraping of the barbs and gasps. It isn’t unpleasant, exactly. She’s so wet for him, it’s actually rather pleasurable. He moves out so that only the tip remains and then plunges back in, making her cry out. He does this several times, creating a rhythm, until Sefa is groaning and crying, holding onto his neck for dear life.

After a few moments, Uriah withdraws and leads Sefa to a slightly shallower area. The cool air on Sefa’s breasts makes her nipples contract. He turns her around, leaning her over the side of the pool, entering her from behind. Water slaps around her as he fucks her that way, spreading her legs with his hands.

Sefa leans forward on her elbows, crying out with every withdrawal, the barbs skimming her inner tissue, and then moaning with each thrust, the tip of Uriah’s cock hitting her cervix. Tingling pleasure runs throughout her body and she pushes back into him, arching. She’s always had trouble orgasming during sex, but this is different. She’s coming apart from just the feeling of Uriah’s barbed cock moving inside her.

Uriah moans, his tail flicking in Sefa’s line of vision. Sefa grabs hold of it, placing the end of it in her mouth and sucking.

“Fuck!” Uriah shudders, speeding up his thrusts as Sefa swirls her tongue about the tip of his tail. “Shit!”

Darkness edges into Sefa’s vision as pleasure spreads inward, tightening her core and she jerks, Uriah finding her clitoris with his fingers and prolonging her orgasm as he spasms, pushing into her, her breasts sliding on the slick tile around the pool. The barbs flare and Sefa is stuck on them; the feeling is so exciting that she comes again and again, calling out his name as her head lolls on her shoulders, Uriah's deep purrs reverberating throughout her body.

***

“Morgana, what are you doing here?” Uther asks when he enters his rooms to find his daughter there.

“I have to talk to you, Father.”

“Can it wait until morning?” Uther is tired. It’s been a long night, and Nimueh has been phoning him, wanting to meet for a shag. He’ll be glad when he gets her out of the way. She’ll be one of the first he has eaten by the worker aliens.

“It really can’t. I’ll lose my nerve if I wait.” Uther looks at her, noticing for the first time that Morgana appears nervous.

“What is it, my dear?” he asks, going to sit beside her on the couch. He unravels one of her hands from where they’re clutching one another in her lap and squeezes it. “Tell me.”

“It might be easier to show you,” Morgana says. Uther sucks in a breath as her eyes turn gold and a glass floats over from the bar, along with the brandy snifter. He watches, dumbstruck, as the snifter unplugs itself and begins pouring brandy into the glass before they both come to rest gently on the table beside the couch. He looks back at Morgana.

“I’ve always been afraid to tell you, Father. I have magic.”


	23. Magic-Users

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone celebrating had a nice holiday. I've enjoyed hearing from some of you lurkers. I've been writing a lot of different things lately. Sorry for the delays.

“Arthur,” Uther stops his son outside his rooms. “I need Leon to escort Cenred, his family, and body guards to Trion as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be ideal.”

Arthur turns to look at his father. “Why are they going to Trion?”

“Now that Essetir is gone, Cenred’s decided he wants to settle there.”

“Somehow I find it difficult to imagine him choosing Trion,” Arthur says, but when he notices his father’s odd look, he realizes his mistake in questioning him. “Of course, Father. I’ll contact Leon tomorrow.”

Arthur isn’t at all sure that Leon will be back on Earth by then, but he’ll worry about that later. He watches his father climb the stairs before unlocking his door.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s waiting inside.

“Fuck, Merlin, you startled me!” Arthur holds his hand to his heart.

“I had to see you,” Merlin comes forward. “My magic’s been going nuts all evening, and I could feel you’ve been upset.”

“Of course I’ve been upset; I’ve been dancing with a bug!” Arthur shudders and pours himself a drink. He offers one to Merlin, who takes it.

“Did you hear about Brightwith’s press conference?” Merlin asks.

Arthur nods. “My father says they’ve made a truce, but you can imagine what he’s up to. It took everything I had to act the proper Stepford child.”

“Your sister plans to speak with him tonight,” Merlin tells him. “She’s waiting in his rooms now.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. “Perhaps I should go there…”

“As soon as Gwaine told me, I went to her and made her promise to come here straight afterward. I knew you’d want to speak with her.”

Arthur sighs. “Thank you.” He sits down to wait. “You’ve been right about him all along,” he says quietly.

Merlin glances his way. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t feel good to hurt you like this.” He looks down. “I wasn’t right about you.”

“Might as well have been. I was just a drugged automaton, doing my father’s bidding.” Arthur clenches his jaw. “We need to get all magic-users on a rocket ship and out of here before this gala,” he continues, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling with sightless eyes.

“The question is, how?” Merlin says.

Arthur’s door opens and a shaky Morgana appears, Morgause at her side.

“How did it go?” Arthur stands.

“He went white as a sheet,” Morgana replies, moving into her brother’s comforting embrace. “I—I told him that I was so happy he’d changed his mind about magic-users, but this, of course, has given him reason to act accepting. I have no idea what he’s really thinking.”

“Do you think there’s a chance he’ll change his mind about all this?” Merlin asks.

“No,” Arthur shakes his head. “I really don’t.” He hands his glass to Morgana, who looks like she needs the whiskey more than he does.

***

The last thing Uther ever thought he’d have to think about was one of his children having magic. Now he knows that Morgana inherited her mother’s magic, and she’s been hiding it from him all her life. He can’t quite digest the information. He’s been drinking since she left the room—Thomas making him martini after martini.

A knock at the door brings his head up. “Who is that?” he asks Thomas, as if his butler is psychic.

“I’ll see, sir.” Thomas goes to the door. “It’s Miss Cummings, sir.”

“Gwen.” Uther stands.

“I hope it isn’t too late,” Gwen tells him. “I just wanted to see you before I went to my rooms.”

“I’m glad you came by,” Uther tells her. “Would you like a drink?”

Gwen shakes her head. “How did your dinner go with the gentlemen from Trion?”

Uther had pretty much forgotten about that after what Morgana had told him.

“It was very nice. Arthur and Peter will make a wonderful couple. We have set the date of their union for next weekend.”

“So soon?” Gwen asks, surprised.

“The sooner the better,” Uther replies.

“You look troubled,” Gwen tells him, and Uther wishes he could confide in her. He’s conflicted. What is he going to do about Morgana during the purge? He can’t get rid of every magic-user except for his daughter. He wonders if he might send her away somewhere. But if news of this unfair treatment got out to the Mantoids, who expect to feed every magic-user to their newborns, he would be putting the world in jeopardy. Still, they don’t know Morgana has magic…

“Uther?” Gwen says. “What’s bothering you?”

Uther steps forward, pulling Gwen into his arms. He likes the feel of her—soft and soothing, a little bit like his mother. “Nothing you need to worry over.”

“I’m not a child,” Gwen says. “You can tell me, and you don’t have to protect me.”

“I know. You’re strong. I’m conflicted about something, that’s all. I need some time. You just being here makes me feel so much better. Will you stay the night? Please?” He tilts her chin and looks into her eyes.

Gwen seems to be studying him, and Uther knows better than to dismiss it as cute. After a moment she nods, and the relief Uther feels surprises him. She kisses him lightly.

“Thomas, prepare my bed, please,” Uther tells his butler, who nods and disappears into the bedroom.

***

Percy stands staring at the hideous newborn behind the protective barrier as it pulls its back leg from the sticky confines of its shell and stretches it out.

“My God,” he breathes.

Beside him, Gilly snaps photos while Daegal swiftly taps out notes.

“Identical to the Mantodea workers,” Daegal announces, pulling up a picture on his Telroid. “There’s no doubt in my mind that’s what they are.”

“What the hell are we going to do with it?” Gilly asks, dropping the small snapshooter into his front pocket.

“Let’s hope it remains confined,” Percy replies. “I’m more worried about what must be happening in Essetir. Those babies will be hungry.”

“Will Uther be gathering them to release at the gala, do you think?” Daegal asks, his expression horrified.

“I don’t know.” Percy leans forward. “Probably. Shit…look at it.”

“What’s it doing?” Daegal asks.

The worker alien’s triangular head swings back and forth, it’s large, bulbous eyes seemingly trying to focus. Two slits near its mandibles snap open and shut. Waving a long front leg about, it makes a move closer to the barrier, its antennae zoning in on Gilly.

“What the hell?” Gilly swallows, stepping back.

“You have magic,” Percy says. “You’re its food. Better get out of here.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Gilly turns and slips through the door.

The worker insectoid settles down.

“It looks disappointed,” Daegal says.

“No doubt it is.” Percy takes out his mobile and dials Lamia, getting her voicemail. He leaves her an urgent message, his third, this time asking her to meet him in three hours. He gives an address and hangs up.

Outside the room, Percy finds a shaken Gilly relating the experience with the hungry worker alien to Gwaine.

“I don’t suppose we’d be lucky enough for it to die of starvation.” Gwaine looks to Uriah.

“Not anytime soon,” Uriah answers.

“Great,” Gilly says. “Well, I’m not going near that thing again.”

“Probably better that none of the magic-users go in there,” Uriah tells them. “It may incite it to break out somehow.”

***

Freya knocks again on Cenred’s door. She knows he’s in there; she can hear him. Turning the knob, she ventures in. The inner room is a wreck, clothes and bottles of liquor everywhere.

“Cenred?” she calls.

“Who the hell is it?”

“It’s Freya Montgomery, Arthur Pendragon’s personal assistant. I’ve been sent to let you know that your flight to Trion may be delayed until tomorrow.” She steps a little farther into the room, skirting a dish of what looks like half-eaten caviar.

“I’m here…in the bedroom.”

Freya picks her way through the mess and moves through the partially opened double doors, lips parting in shock to find Cenred lying in bed, Mordred enthusiastically going down on him.

“Oh.” Freya looks away. “Um. Anyway. So…your flight. To Trion. It’s put off until tomorrow. Arthur said to let you know. Would you…like me to inform your sister?”

Mordred starts to lift his head up, but Cenred pushes it back down.

“No, I’ll tell her.” He lifts his hips and pumps a few times, gagging Mordred.

Freya begins to back out of the room.

“Wait,” Cenred says, voice strained. His face tenses and he jerks. Freya can’t help but look as Cenred pumps sperm into Mordred’s mouth and then pulls Mordred off him by the hair. “You can escort Mordred out.”

Mordred scrambles off the bed, grabbing his pants and shirt and pausing in the living area to find his shoes before following Freya into the hallway.

“Why do you put up with that?” Freya whispers intensely.

Mordred’s mouth sets in a firm line. Looking over his shoulder at Cenred’s door, he takes Freya’s hand and pulls her toward the empty stairwell. “Don’t worry; I won’t be for long.” His eyes glow gold.


	24. By Any Means

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a raunchy chapter.  
> Anal f/m sex--if you need a warning for that. Voyeurism. Threesome. Light, consensual bondage.

“I remember you from when we were children,” Arthur says. “I mean, I remember this feeling.”

Arthur lies in the cocoon of Merlin’s arms, the weak light from the moon peaking in from the open curtains of Arthur’s bedroom window. He plays with the dark hairs just below Merlin’s navel. Merlin’s skin looks even paler in the moonlight, the muscles of his abdomen taut underneath Arthur’s wrists.

“My magic,” Merlin says. “It called to you even then, I guess.” Merlin sighs. “I felt my own pull toward you, but you were always surrounded by friends. Then, later, you were always with your father and your body guards.”

Arthur nods. “I didn’t even realize it wasn’t normal.”

“I thought you were a git,” Merlin says, amusement lacing the words. He jumps when Arthur pinches him hard. “Oi!” He raises Arthur’s chin and kisses him, running his hands down the hard planes of Arthur’s back to cup the pliant globes of his arse.

Lax and replete from an intense orgasm, Merlin’s body sinks farther into the mattress.  Arthur rode him again, and although Merlin longs to take the lead—has longed to ever since the moment he saw Arthur as an adult—he wants Arthur to feel comfortable. Theirs is a tenuous relationship, built on the foundation of their soul bound. They must form their trust around it. Merlin’s immediate feelings of wanting to dominate Arthur in bed had nothing to do with Arthur’s initial aura of complacency due to the vitamins he was taking. They remain as strong even as Arthur has thrown off the fog of mind-altering drugs and become clear-headed and decisive. In some ways, they’ve become stronger.

Arthur’s mouth is warm, wet, and incredibly giving. Merlin sucks at Arthur’s lower lip, eliciting moans from Arthur that bring Merlin’s cock quickly back to full erection. Arthur moves against it, teasing, and Merlin sucks Arthur’s tongue, pulling him closer by his arse cheeks, his fingers inching closer to the sweet bud of his center.

Things heat up again fast, and soon Arthur’s straddling Merlin, then speared on him, head thrown back. Not long after, Arthur sinks onto the mattress between Merlin’s legs, his still-slick hole holding Merlin fast as they move in unison, legs entangled. Merlin looks down, watching the gleam of his piercing catching the light with every thrust.

Being hitherto a-sexual, Merlin didn’t get the piercing in order to enhance a partner’s sexual experience; he got it as a symbol of his Artemedian heritage, much like his ring. It was supposed to say that he wasn’t ruled by his cock. The thought makes him want to laugh now, as he very much feels ruled by his cock at the moment; or rather by Arthur, whose strong hands clench Merlin’s shoulders, knees pressing Merlin’s rib cage as Merlin slowly thrusts in and out of him, purposely dragging the ball of the piercing as slowly as possible past the rim of Arthur’s hole.

“Fuck…” Arthur breathes, beautiful with his blond hair wet with sweat and sticking to his forehead. His body shudders in reaction, and Merlin’s magic wells up inside him, tightening his balls.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Merlin says, unable to hold the sentimental words back.

Arthur, overcome, rolls his eyes forward and locks them with Merlin’s as both their bodies wrack with release. It’s one of the most intense moments in Merlin’s life; he feels their souls binding more permanently together, the very air around them crackling with electricity. It’s as though some of Merlin’s magic transfers to Arthur, dormant but there all the same, and Arthur’s eyes widen, hips jerking and fingers tightening on Merlin’s shoulders.

Merlin scoots closer so that their bodies touch, and he holds Arthur close, feeling the other man’s heart beating as rapidly as his own.

“Somehow I don’t think sex is always this good,” he whispers into Arthur’s ear.

Arthur shakes his head. “No.” He bites the area where Merlin’s shoulder meets his neck. “Not even close.”

***

Gwen lies spread-eagled on the bed, heart beating wildly, lust-fueled adrenalin rushing through her body. She’s so close. So close. Is it wrong to enjoy herself so much with such an evil man?

But Uther isn’t all evil. There is something good in him; she’s seen it. And to father such wonderful children…

Gwen realizes that the baby she’s carrying could very well be Uther’s, and if it is, it could grow up to be as wonderful as Morgana and Arthur. She will not terminate this pregnancy.

She glances down to where Uther’s face moves over her, delicately feasting on her most intimate parts, and she arches off the bed, unable to suppress her moans of desire even though Thomas stands in the shadows, awaiting Uther’s requests. He’s the one who handed Uther the pillow to place under Gwen’s hips; he’s the one who quietly fastened Gwen’s wrists to the bedposts with Uther’s silk ties; he’s the one who quickly clipped Uther’s fingernails before Uther inserted them inside Gwen’s body.

Is she a total slut because it turns her on to have him there, eyes on the other wall, but ears undoubtedly listening to her cries? She moans louder, knees hugging Uther’s face. When his pinky pushes into her anus while he gives a particularly good suck, she comes up from the bed with a scream, coming apart, shaking all over.

“Oh, my innocent darling,” he says a moment later, untying and holding her. “You don’t know how good it can be.” Uther kisses her sweating temple, pushing her damp hair back. “I could show you so many pleasures…” he whispers. “I long to clamp your nipples…enter that plump arse of yours.”

Gwen sucks in her breath, wanting it.

But things will never get that far. The aliens are hatching, and Uther will kill off the magic-users. She can’t let it happen, even if she has to beg—use all he feminine whiles. Use their baby as a bargaining chip.

She feels his sex poking at her from behind.

“You’d like it, Gwen,” he tells her, pinching her nipples and nipping at her earlobe. He holds his hand up, and immediately Thomas is there with the lube. Gwen’s breathing quickens as Uther’s fingers prod at her anus. “Relax, darling.”

Gwen takes a breath. Two. She relaxes. She finds she enjoys the sensations of Uther’s finger inside her, exploring, particularly when his other fingers are working at her in front. The more aroused she gets, the less she minds when he inserts another finger.

When he finally urges her onto her knees, she feels wanton, especially with Thomas there in the shadow of the door. And she likes the feeling, damn Uther! Only he can make her forget everything and succumb like this. He enters her slowly. It hurts at first, and she resists, but Uther talks her through it, and she slowly relaxes until he can slide all the way in.

“Touch yourself,” Uther instructs, and Gwen does, moving her fingers as he begins to thrust, and it gets better and better.

“Yes, Gwen, you’re beautiful like this…love your sweet arse,” Uther groans. “Tell me you like it.”

“I…do…” Gwen cries. “Oh, yes!” She sighs, wiggling her arse. Sensation after sensation washes over her. Gwen can’t believe she likes this so much. She never in a million years thought she would. She’s always been such a good girl… the obedient child…the one with top marks…the best of the daughters.

“Talk to me,” Uther swallows audibly. “Tell me what you like.”

Gwen’s mind scrambles for something to say. She feels sexy and deliciously slutty. “I love your big cock in me,” she tries, and Uther growls, speeding up. She cries out. “And I…I like Thomas watching us!” Gwen can’t believe she just said that!

“Oh, do you?” Uther sounds pleased. “Thomas, you heard the lady…pull up a chair.”

“Yes, sir.” A scrape. Suddenly Thomas sits beside the bed, his impassive face so close, Gwen could reach out and touch it.

“Thomas might as well be comfortable while he watches me pound you,” Uther says, teeth clenched as he swivels his hips. “Have you ever seen such lovely breasts?” Uther asks Thomas. “Watch them swing. Gwen, I do believe Thomas is hard.”

Gwen turns to look. The outline of Thomas’ hard cock can be seen tenting his trousers. She gasps, and Uther thrusts harder.

“As lovely as your arse is,” Uther says after a few more thrusts, “it’s so tight, I can’t get off in it.” Uther withdraws. “I want your sweet pussy. Thomas?”

Thomas reaches over to the table and hands Uther a rag to wipe off with. He then hands Uther the lube.

“Do you mind if Thomas participates a little?” Uther asks. “If he touches you, Gwen?”

Gwen shakes her head. _In for a penny…_

Uther lies down on the bed. “Come sit backwards on me, pet.”

Gwen eases down on Uther, his cock a welcome fit inside her vagina.

“Steady her, Thomas.” Thomas kneels on the bed in front of Gwen, between Uther’s spread legs, and helps to keep her from wobbling as Uther begins to thrust. As Gwen cries out, pleasure intensifying, Uther says, “We know what Thomas will be wanking to tonight. What will you be wanking to, Thomas?”

“Thoughts of Miss Cummings, sir.”

“What about Miss Cummings?”

“Specifically, her breasts, sir,” Thomas says hoarsely, eyes watching Gwen’s breasts bouncing.

Uther orders Thomas to pinch her nipples, and the sight as well as sensation of him doing so, face still blank, and he in his suit while she and Uther are naked, brings Gwen over the top. She jerks, screaming out, mouth dry; and the clenching of her inner muscles wrings Uther’s orgasm out of him.

Gwen’s relieved to see that Thomas is sweating and the front of his trousers are wet; otherwise, she wouldn’t believe him human.

As she lies in Uther’s arms, the room dark and quiet, Thomas finally retired for the night (although part of her wouldn’t be surprised if Uther invited him to sleep with them), Gwen runs her hand over Uther’s furry chest and begins.

“Uther…what’s going on? I know something’s happening. That egg…that thing in it. We are going to be killed by those aliens, aren’t we?”

“Not if I can help it. That’s why I brought in your team.” Uther’s voice is quiet and controlled.

“I know that, but…we still don’t know how to kill them, and they’re almost hatched. And this gala…why now, of all times? It seems crazy. How are you keeping what’s happening in Essetir from the rest of the world?”

She can feel him stiffening around her. “Don’t worry about it, Gwen.”

Now’s the time to see how much she means to him. She pulls away.

“Uther, I’m carrying your baby.” _Or Lance’s._

“What?” The smile that spreads across Uther’s face at the news is frankly stunning.

Gwen sits up, her hair fanning over her face. “I tested, and I’m pregnant. But I’m afraid…this uncertainty about the future. It’s frightening.”

Uther pulls himself up in bed, the sheet falling to his waist.

“Gwen, I’d never let anything happen to you.”

She looks at him, eyes wide. “Those aliens will kill us all!”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I promise you they won’t.”

“But how do you know?” she presses. “Uther…tell me.  Please!”

***

“But what is Cenred even planning on doing?” Freya asks, shutting the door to George’s room behind her and turning to Mordred.

“He’s no genius,” Mordred says. “He only plans on waiting in the wings until Uther is done, killing Uther, and then taking the spoils.

“But surely Uther will kill him first.”

“Of course,” Mordred shrugs. “Like I said, Cenred is no genius. I’ve just been along for the ride. As long as they believe me a stupid whore, I’m out of danger and always in the loop.”

Freya narrows her eyes. “So you were spying on Arthur.”

“Uther, more like. Arthur was fairly uninteresting as long as he was controlled by the pills.”

Freya gasps. “You knew about that?”

“Figured it out fairly quickly. No one is that spineless,” Mordred walks over to a chair and flops down on it. “Uther would suggest the dumbest things, and Arthur would just go along with it—no questions asked. Only he wasn’t a stupid man. It didn’t add up, you know?”

Freya nods. “I know.”

“I assume you know what he’s planning now?”

Freya nods.  “We have to stop it.”

“I’ve already got a warning out in the underground,” Mordred says. “They’ll come, but not unarmed.”

“How did you do that?” Freya asks, shocked.

“I’ve been preparing for this,” Mordred says. “My body may belong to a lot of people, but my heart only belongs to one, and he’s very influential.”

Freya raises a brow. “Not…”

Mordred smiles. “Yes. Julian Brightwith.”


	25. Heritage Means Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a reader more A/M, but then only succeeded in getting them in the same room. It's difficult to move the plot forward otherwise. But soon.

 

Percy looks at his watch, the sound of dripping coming from the sewers overhead beginning to seem something like Chinese water torture to him.

“Fuck, where is she?” he whispers, fear gripping his bowels just before a faint _psst_ grabs his attention and he turns quickly, staring into the shadows.

“Lamia?” he calls quietly.

She moves out from behind the cement wall, a handkerchief pressed to her face.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” Percy hugs her tightly, relieved.

“I think someone might be monitoring my mobile,” she tells him, pulling her hood off her head.

“What?” Percy stares down into her tired face. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. “Are you all right?”

She nods, but presses her cheek to his chest for a moment before continuing. “Percy, I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s an underground for magic-users. It’s been in place for a long time.”

Percy nods. He’s heard of such.

“There have been messages going back and forth.” Lamia bites her lip, tears coming to her eyes. “Yesterday, my friend Cathiam was killed…trying to relay a message. I think perhaps they’re on to us.”

“What do you mean? Are the magic-users aware that the gala is a trap?”

“Of course!” Lamia scoffs. “We don’t believe a thing that comes out of Uther Pendragon’s mouth, the bastard. The problem is, we have to get a message to Tintagel…it’s the only colony we haven’t reached.”

“Come back to the mansion with me,” Percy tells her. “It isn’t safe for you to go home anyway.”

Lamia seems unwilling at first but finally nods, resigned.

***

Merlin stands to the side of the room, watching as Arthur has his photo made with Peter, barely able to contain his building wrath and jealousy. His magic surges just beneath his skin, yearning to rip Peter in half. Merlin can tell that Arthur is having trouble containing the part of Merlin’s magic that’s lodged itself within him; he keeps shifting and moving Merlin’s way, in spite of the photographer’s instructions to do otherwise.

“Arthur, love, what’s wrong with you?” Peter chuckles, and Merlin practically explodes at the endearment, especially coupled as it is with the loathsome sight of Peter’s arm wrapped proprietarily around Arthur’s waist.

Merlin narrows his eyes, and with his magic’s help, he can see for a brief second the true form of the mantoid. It isn’t attractive. He sends a well-aimed spark through Peter’s dress slacks, and Peter jumps with a small shout, letting go of Arthur.

“Whatever’s the matter?” Uther asks Peter.

“A…spark of some kind…” Peter feels the front of his trousers.

“Must be static electricity,” Arthur says. “So many people on this carpet.” He shoots a venomous look at Merlin, who quickly glances away.

Arthur pastes on a smile for the camera, but Merlin can feel his revulsion, along with his deep, heart-felt yearning for Merlin, no matter how irritated at him Arthur gets when Merlin gives in to annoyance and fries Peter’s pants.

Watching Peter lean in and kiss Arthur’s perfect mouth, Merlin feels Arthur drawing back in distaste and fear. Unable to stand it a moment longer, Merlin moves forward, only to be grasped by the shoulders and tugged back.

“Uh, uh. Not at this late hour, Merlin,” Gwaine says into his ear. The small crowd gathered chatters loudly enough to drown their conversation if they speak quietly. “You’re doing well; don’t botch it up now.”

“I can’t take this!” Merlin says through clenched teeth. “You don’t understand; this isn’t just a bout of jealousy. Not like Lance.” He gestures to where Lance stands looking unhappily at Gwen wrapped under Uther’s protective arm.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how much I do understand,” Gwaine tells his friend.

Merlin looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been doing a little digging into your heritage, mate.”

At Merlin’s confused expression, Gwaine smiles softly and pulls Merlin back under the wide arch of the door where Percy and Lamia stand waiting.

“Have you ever even thought to look into your heritage, Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Not really. Just that my father, Balinor, was from Artemedia.”

“Well, given your strong reaction to Arthur and the fact that Uther’s been feeding him phony vitamins for years, I took it upon myself to do some investigating, with a little help from Gilly. You have a rare combination of genetics. Your father bonded with your mother for life, correct?”

Merlin nods. “But he was killed when I was small.”

“And where was your mother from?” Gwaine asks. “Did you ever bother to find out?”

“She never spoke of it. I know I’ve asked her.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine grasps Merlin’s forearms and looks into his eyes. “That’s because her father was the leader of Heka—from a long line of them, apparently. She wanted to keep this from you, because of its import. Your magic is as old as the planet of Heka, and your magic recognized Arthur the moment it came into contact with him, I’m sure. At least, that’s what research tells of Hekian magical bonds. But your Artemedian heritage forced your magic into waiting until you were a man to create a bond with Arthur, your soul mate. The fact that _he’s_ your soul mate must mean something, don’t you think?”

Merlin’s mind races, and Lamia’s eyes widen.

“Merlin, you’re like royalty to the rest of us! You’re a Hekian prince!”

“Nonsense,” Merlin shakes his head.

“No wonder you’re stronger magically than the rest of them, Merlin,” Percy says.

“You’re meant to help us,” Lamia tells Merlin, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You’re meant to soul-bond with the son of the devil himself and save us magic-users!” Her whisper is fierce.

Gobsmacked, Merlin turns to look toward the dais where Arthur stands, Peter’s arms still wrapped tightly around him. As though feeling Merlin’s eyes upon him, Arthur turns and looks Merlin’s way. Their eyes meet, and the air charges, causing Freya to let go Merlin’s hand and gasp.

“You need a priestess. Someone to complete this bond,” Lamia says.

“That sounds crazy,” Merlin tells her. “And the bond is completing itself. We can feel it.”

“Lamia,” Percy takes her by the arm. “You need to tell them what you told me. Come into our quarters.” He leads the way, and Merlin gives Arthur one last yearning look before he follows.

***

Arthur splashes cold water on his face. He couldn’t get away from Peter fast enough, and as soon as the photos were all taken, he made an excuse and rushed into the nearest restroom. Looking at the window, he contemplates crawling out.

His mobile rings. Morgana.

“I hope you have some way of rescuing me from this bathroom,” he tells her in lieu of greeting.

“I will do if you can help me get out of this situation,” she says.

“What situation?”

“Which bathroom are you in?”

Morgana smuggles Arthur from the rest room in one of the maid’s laundry carts, right under Peter’s nose, who stands eating caviar and drinking champagne with his father, Uther, and Gwen.

When Arthur climbs out, he finds himself in Mithian’s room and staring at a trussed-up Agravaine.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asks. Agravaine looks as though he’s going to pop several blood vessels in his neck.

“He intercepted a message to you from Leon and was about to tell Father,” Morgana replies. “Morgause hit him over the head with an old teleporter.”

“Nice,” Arthur says to Morgause, who gives him a nod.

“I got him in my trunk and drove him over here.” She wiggles her fingers to show him _how_ she got him out of _Pendragon_ and into her trunk.

Agravaine starts mumbling and rocking back and forth in the chair they’ve tied him to.

“He’s in on all this with Father,” Morgana says. “He told me as much.”

Arthur shakes his head and looks at Agravaine. “Why, Uncle? What have magic-users ever done to you?” Reaching over, he whips the gag out of Agravaine’s mouth.

“They’re an abomination, Arthur, you don’t understand!”

“My mother had magic!” Arthur says angrily.

“And I have it,” Morgana tells him proudly, chin rising.

Agravaine looks sick. “That’s from that mother of yours. Arthur’s lucky he escaped it.” He looks back at Arthur. “Look what Igraine did—she ran away with a Hekian!”

“And look what my father’s done! Drugged me into submission my whole life!” Arthur counters, sickened.

“He wants what’s best for you.”

“He wants what he wants,” Arthur corrects, stuffing the gag back into Agravaine’s mouth.

“What will we do with him?” Morgana asks.

“We’ll lock him away until this is over with.” Arthur texts Gwaine. “There’s a room in the basement we can use.”

“Won’t Uther wonder where he’s gone?” Morgause asks.

“Send word to Father that he’s ill,” Arthur tells Morgana. “And we’ll have to get his PA out of the picture.”

Arthur rubs his head, which has begun to ache, and longs for all of it to be over.


	26. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've found some errors here and there. I realized I'd used two spellings for Igraine's name and fixed that, and also that I used Peter earlier for the little boy's name in the hospital. I changed that to Parker, since I made the Mantoid guy a Peter, also.  
> Thanks for the sweet comments! <3 They got me in the mood to write today, even though I should be working on my kid!fic!

“Nimueh,” Uther sighs, hanging up his overcoat. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for you, Uther, what do you think?” Nimueh asks, lounging on the sofa, the blue of her robes making her eyes sparkle like gems.

“Well, I’m awfully tired. It’s been a busy day, what with all the press concerning Arthur’s union.”

Nimueh wrinkles her nose. “You’re marrying him off to that horrible creature.”

“Yes.”

“Even though he’s soul bonded to another. Branded by magic.”

“Yes,” Uther says irritably. “That’s the point. Uniting Arthur will rid him of this magic-user once and for all.”

Nimueh’s laughter is like the tinkling of bells, and it incenses Uther. “What are you laughing at?” he demands.

“For a fairly intelligent man, you really are stupid,” she says, and Uther just wants to punch the smile off her beautiful face. “You can’t get rid of Merlin’s magic.”

“What not?” Uther asks, drawing himself up to full height.

“Because,” Nimueh narrows her eyes, relishing what she’s about to say. “He’s a powerful sorcerer, Uther. And he’s branded your son as his.”

“Rubbish!” Uther replies. “If he’s powerful, then he’ll just make a better meal for the mantoid workers.”

“You silly, foolish man,” Nimueh spits. “You always have underestimated us.” She walks toward him, her silk robe rustling against her skin. “I’ve toyed with you long enough. Go back to your pathetic girlfriend.”

She disappears.

“I don’t need you!” Uther shouts. He takes his mobile out and makes a call.

“Brightwith. Don’t you forget what I said---you have a family. I’ll kill them all if you do anything to go against me.” He hangs up.

Mordred watches as Julian disconnects.

“Was that him?”

Julian nods. “More threats.”

“Fortunately, you don’t really have a family,” Mordred says.

“They’re still people, though, Mordred.”

“But they’re clever magic-users, not a simple wife, kids, and elderly father as Uther thinks,” Mordred says, smiling. He leans in and gives Julian a gentle kiss, running his tongue along the inside of his mouth.

“This has been a nightmare,” Julian sighs, pulling Mordred close.

“It will all be over soon,” Mordred tells him, entangling their fingers together and resting his head on Julian’s shoulder. Theirs is not a physical love; it is a well-kept secret that Julian was castrated thirty years ago when imprisoned for magic use on the planet of Gia. It transcends that somehow. Mordred never feels safer or more loved than when in Julian’s arms.

Mordred’s mobile rings this time.

“Yeah, George, what is it?” Mordred sits up. “Well, calm down. It doesn’t mean anything. She could be anywhere. All right. I’ll be right there.” He ends the call and looks at Julian. “Freya’s missing, and George’s having a fit.”

“Do you think someone got her?”

Mordred shrugs. “Dunno. If Uther had even an inkling she has magic, he wouldn’t want her near his precious boy.”

“I always said the same when you were his PA, didn’t I?” Julian asks.

Mordred nods. “I’d better head over to the funhouse and see what’s up.”

“Wish I could go with you,” Julian says.

“Me, too,” Mordred leans forward and kisses him warmly. “Keep the bed warm, yeah?”

He rolls out and starts pulling on his clothes.

***

Pounding on the door has Sefa looking over her shoulder worriedly at Uriah.

“Expecting someone?” she asks.

“No,” Uriah shakes his head. He eases out of Sefa, and she grabs her robe. He’s half-way to the door when it opens.

“Sorry, sorry, but Uriah,” George is out of breath. “Have you seen your sister?”

“What?” Uriah finishes yanking up his pants and ties them. “Freya? No…why? What’s happened?”

“I can’t find her anywhere! She’s not answering her phone, and she didn’t meet me for dinner!” He runs a shaking hand through his hair.

Sefa rushes from the bedroom.

“It’s okay, George…what makes you think something’s happened to her?”

“Uther’s been suspicious. I know it. Gods, if anything’s happened to her!” Tears spill down George’s cheeks.

“Did you check her flat?” Uriah asks.

“Of course! And mine. And here—and the office. Everywhere I could think of! Where could she be? I’ve run out of places to look!”

Uriah looks at Sefa, face thunderous. “I’ll kill that sonovabitch if he’s hurt my sister!”

***

Gwen stares out the window of the sitting area of her rooms at Pendragon mansion, looking at the dry garden and the acres of desolate fields beyond. She remembers a time in her childhood when things were a bit less sparse, even in winter. She came from a poor family, but she always found succor in the outdoors, where she would plaid blades of grass and put them in her hair, pretending she was a princess.

She always had to come back to reality, however, and return home where there was barely any food and her crippled mother to take care of. That’s why she became a nurse and Elyan became a medic. Her sisters all ran away, though; they couldn’t take the hard times. Gwen wonders what happened to them.

A knock at the door startles her out of her thoughts.

Uther stands in the hallway, looking boyishly pleased to see her.

Gwen looks at the bouquet of daisies he holds out to her and smiles, dimples showing in her cheeks.

“Wherever did you find them, especially this time of year?” she asks, taking them.

“I searched everywhere, my beautiful lady,” Uther says gallantly, kissing her hand. She blushes.

“I’ve missed you,” he tells her.

“I saw you this morning, Uther,” she says.

“I know, and that was hours ago.” He walks in, shutting the door to her rooms. “You looked beautiful at the press conference, did I tell you?”

“Yes, you mentioned that—several times,” Gwen laughs.

“It’s true.” He takes a seat, pulling her down onto his lap. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?”

She shakes her head, curls bouncing.

“I’d like to buy a little cottage for the two of us and our baby. Somewhere beautiful. Perhaps another planet…I hear there are a few with wonderful vegetation and mountains.”

Gwen bites her lip and looks away. It sounds so wonderful. Uther touches her chin. “Gwen? We could be good together.”

“I don’t know,” she says, but leans down and kisses him anyway. He’s gentle, his mouth soft and his hands careful as they comb through her hair.

“Gwen?” a voice calls through her door. “Gwen? It’s Lance. Are you in there?” There’s a knock.

“Ignore it,” Uther says, hands coming down over her bare arms, mouth on her neck.

Gwen’s heart flutters in her chest.

“Gwen? Are you there?”

Gwen sighs and stands. “I’ll get rid of him,” she tells Uther.

She opens the door a crack. “What is it, Lance?”

“Have you seen Freya? Everyone’s looking for her. She’s missing.”

Gwen’s mouth forms an O. She opens the door a bit more. “No! No, I haven’t seen her. Maybe since yesterday.”

“Okay. Well, if you do, let us know. George is so upset, and Uriah’s looking everywhere.” Lance looks past her to where Uther sits staring, legs falling open, obvious bulge in his pants. Lance clears his throat and looks back at Gwen, his eyes falling on the love bites covering her neck. He backs away.

“Thanks, Lance,” Gwen tells him, closing the door. She turns to Uther. “Do you know where Freya is?”

“I?” Uther puts a hand to his chest. “Why would I know where Arthur’s PA is?”

Gwen swallows. “Could you please help us find her? Please?”

Uther laughs. “Gwen, I’m sure she’s around somewhere. Why is everyone making such a fuss? But if it will make you feel better, I can use my connections at the police and see if they know anything.” He takes his mobile out of his pocket and makes a call while Gwen watches, unsure.

“They said they’ve already spoken to her boyfriend and brother. There have been no accidents and if she’s still missing in the morning, they’ll issue a missing person’s announcement on her. Come here.” He pats his leg, and Gwen walks unsteadily toward him, reseating herself on his lap. She doesn’t want to think that Uther did anything to Freya, but she knows he may have. If he found out she’s a magic-user…

Uther covers Gwen’s mouth with his own, demanding and fierce, and Gwen succumbs, mewling softly as he pops the buttons of her dress open and dips his hand inside her bra, kneading her breast with agile fingers while his tongue explores her mouth.

“My beautiful Gwen,” he whispers. “I’ll give you everything. You and our child.”

She wonders if it would be possible to run away from all the ugliness.

“Take me there now, Uther. Let’s go now and never look back,” she pleads into his mouth as he unzips his trousers.

“Soon enough, my pet. Soon enough.”


	27. Choosing Sides

Uther stares down at Gwen’s sleeping face. She’s so beautiful, he feels sometimes that he can’t breathe when he looks at her. She begged him to take her away, and he would love nothing more. Yet, can he trust her?

Gwen told him that Merlin is one of the weaker of the magic-users, yet Nimueh says he’s a great sorcerer. Which is telling him the truth? Nimueh could be trying to rile him. She’s a jealous hussy at the best of times. Still, what does he really know about Gwen Cummings? She isn’t magic; that’s one point she has in her favor. And she’s carrying his child.

Silently, Uther slips out of bed and goes to where he dropped his pants. When he’s found his mobile, he taps out a note to Thomas. It isn’t long until his butler is at the door with the small medical device he requires.

Placing his finger over his lips, Uther leads Thomas back to the bed. As Thomas holds the monitor, Uther presses the flat side of the wand to Gwen’s uterus.

“Positive,” Thomas whispers after a moment, meeting Uther’s eyes. “Pregnant not more than a couple of days.”

A pleased smile spreads over Uther’s face, and he suddenly has the urge to hug Thomas.

Gwen stirs in the bed, blinking groggily. “Uther? Thomas?”

“Yes, love, it’s Uther and Thomas here to take care of you.” Uther pushes the wand into Thomas’ hands before Gwen can see it and crawls into the bed, cradling her.

“Mmm,” Gwen murmurs, running her hands over Uther’s arms. “You’re cold.”

Forgetting his suspicions of before, Uther scoops her up in his arms, reseating her on his lap and wrapping his arms around her tightly. “You can warm me up. I think Gwen missed you earlier, Thomas,” Uther tells his butler.

“Indeed, sir?” Thomas says, placing the test in his pocket and taking his spot against the wall.

Gwen smiles shyly at Thomas before leaning down and kissing Uther hungrily on the mouth.

***

“Uther Pendragon is a fool,” Nimueh says to grey cat, Tabitha, as she looks through old photographs of Uther with her sister Carlotta. “And Carlotta was an even bigger fool to fall in love with him.” She stares at one picture of her sister sitting under a tree behind the old house she shared with her husband, Gorlois. Tabitha winds herself around Nimueh’s legs and purrs.

“You should have stayed away from him,” Nimueh tells her sister’s image. “I, at least, have always known what he’s capable of. I’ve stayed by him, Sister, in order to watch over your daughter. I believe she has magic, just like we do—I’m sure I’ve detected it on her.”

Nimueh thinks of how beautiful Morgana is; she looks a bit like Carlotta. She tells this to Tabitha, who meows.

“You’d be proud at how she’s grown up, Carlotta,” Nimueh tells the photo. “She’s had to keep herself apart from the magic world, just as I have, but for different reasons. Uther turned against our kind, although he hasn’t minded fucking me when he feels like it, or asking me for help controlling his son, but he knows I stand apart from the others. He thinks of me as an extension of you. But I’m finished with him.” At the irritation in her mistress’s voice, Tabitha jumps onto the table behind her and sits, aloof.

“Morgana’s old enough to make her own decisions, and perhaps it’s time I spoke with her—told her who her real mother was. I feel movement in the magic world, Carlotta.” Nimuehl smooths her fingers over the image of her long-dead sister. “…something is happening, and I’m not a part of it because I’ve kept to myself.”

Nimueh puts the picture down and stands, pacing her flat. She must get back into the good graces of the magic-users, but how? Julian Brightwith is unlikely to trust her because she’s spent so much time with Uther.

“Damn him!” she spits. “I’ve let him consume me.” If Uther weren’t so good in bed, she’s sure she wouldn’t have been this lax. Sometimes she can’t believe he isn’t a warlock and his cock a wand.

If only she could convince Julian somehow that she’s willing to turn against Uther.

“He’ll never trust me,” she tells Tabitha, who meows loudly.

There’s a knock on the door, and when Nimueh opens it, a wet and bedraggled woman stands in the hallway, looking furtively behind her.

“Nimueh Baxter?” the girl inquires, shivering, glancing behind Nimueh into her flat. She relaxes a little when she sees Tabitha.

Nimueh nods. “I’ve seen you somewhere. At _Pendragon_.”

The girl nods. “I’m Freya Montgomery. I’ve come to beg for your help.”

Nimueh frowns, but lets her in. “To beg, you say?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to turn--He’s after me. If you won’t help a fellow magic-user, I’ve run out of options.” Freya holds herself stiffly, and her teeth chatter from cold.

“Who’s after you?” Nimueh asks, getting a towel out of the narrow linen closet and handing it to Freya. Tabitha jumps down from the table and comes to sniff at Freya’s wet tail.

“Uther Pendragon. He’s found out I have magic. I’m his son’s PA, and he wants me gone.”

Nimueh nods. “Ah, yes. Uther did suspect about your magic, although I never confirmed it.”

Freya freezes, eyes wide. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Nimueh laughs. “No. Actually, you’re like an answer to a prayer right now.”

Tabitha meows, and Freya seems to commune with the cat a moment before letting her shoulders droop and her guard down a bit.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve just been wondering how I can get back in touch with the magical community. I’m through with Uther. I must say, it was terribly brave of you to come here.”

“Or terribly stupid.” Freya rubs her hair with the towel. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. He has someone watching my flat-- I saw them. I’ve been hiding all day, waiting for night fall. I just hoped that going to the last person he’d suspect might work…and you’re a fellow magic-user…you can’t be all bad.”

“Thanks,” Nimueh says wryly. “Not everyone would agree with you.”

“I know you’re a powerful sorceress, but I’ve never actually heard that you’ve done evil. I suspect that you’ve helped Uther in keeping his son drugged all these years, though.”

Nimueh’s surprised, and lets it show. “You know about that?”

Freya nods. “Uther is going to bring us all down, if he can. You’re either with us or against us, Nimueh. And you can kill me if you want, but I think the magic-users will win and you will lose if you try to side with Uther.”

Nimueh makes a derisive noise. “Why would I want to do that? I’ve really only been biding my time with him. I’ll go get you something dry to wear.” She disappears down the hall, and Freya bends to pet the grey cat.

When Nimueh returns, she hands Freya some clothing, points her to the bathroom, and then sets about making some coffee.

Once they’re seating and drinking it, Freya in a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved blouse, her hair combed and almost dry, they resume their conversation.

“Uther was once involved with my sister,” Nimueh says, sipping from her cup. “And they had a child together. Can you guess who it is?”

“Morgana,” Freya breathes. “And you‘ve been looking out for her.”

“As best I can,” Nimueh replies.

“But you helped him drug Arthur.” Freya’s eyes are distrustful.

Nimueh shrugs. “It kept Uther happy.” With a flash of gold, the coffee pot floats over to freshen their cups.

“Arthur’s never been able to live his own life!” Freya says angrily.

“I’ve never claimed to be a good person,” Nimueh tells her. “But I do want what’s best for magic-users. What’s Uther got up his sleeve?”

With a quick look to Tabitha for reassurance, Freya says, “He’s made a deal with aliens from a far-away planet. He’s got a whole slew of worker insectoids hatching that are going to snack on every magic-user on Earth before leaving to repopulate their planet. When they’re gone, Uther will be rid of magic-users and will rule as Supreme Prime Regent.”

Nimueh’s mouth falls open. “So that’s what he meant about feeding Merlin to the mantoid workers! The idiot! He can’t possibly think he’ll succeed!” She’s disgusted at the thought of Uther making a meal of the entire magical population. That megalomaniac thinks he can rule all of Earth!

“I think he’s ego’s just big enough that he does. The Mantoids want their workers fed, and they’ve signed the agreement. Uther’s even united Arthur with their prince to seal the deal completely and, he thinks, to keep Merlin’s magic from completely claiming Arthur. I suppose Arthur will have to go back to Mantodea with them.”

“Good luck with that,” Nimueh laughs humourlessly. “Merlin has more magic than anyone I’ve ever encountered, and he’s not about to let Arthur go. He intrigues me. I felt his claim on Arthur immediately.”

“What do you think it means?” Freya asks.

“I’m not sure, but I’d love to find out.”

“Will you help us?” Freya’s fingers curl around her coffee cup.

Nimueh nods slowly. “Oh, yes. Uther must be stopped. Perhaps with your endorsement, Julian Brightwith will agree to see me.”

“Uther’s invited all magic-users to a gala on the fifteenth.” Freya sits up straight in her chair, her tail swinging excitedly behind her. “We’ve sent word through the underground, but there are spies everywhere. We have to work fast. I’m sure Uther’s monitoring my mobile—I chucked it in the river.  I’ll call Julian on yours.”

Nimueh agrees and fetches it from her purse.

***

“I am certain you never came out of that rest room, darling,” Peter says, holding Arthur’s hand.

“If that were true, Peter, I would still be in there, wouldn’t I,” Arthur says irritably.

“But only a maid entered…I was right there, having caviar…”

“I told you, I left when I got a phone call and needed information from my rooms. Why does any of this matter?” Arthur asks.

Peter smiles. “It doesn’t, of course.” He pulls Arthur close. “Only two days until we are united.” He kisses Arthur, and Arthur feels the magic inside him revolting. He stamps it down and tries his best to respond to Peter.

“I cannot wait to get you into bed,” Peter whispers, and Arthur wants to hurl. “Perhaps tonight?”

“Not before we’re united,” Arthur tells him firmly, knowing that will never happen as long as he has a breath in his body.

“How old-fashioned,” Peter replies, eyes dancing. “I’ll bet you’re a wild cat in bed.”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” Arthurs tells him. “I’m actually quite old-fashioned and boring.”

“You can never bore me.” Peter kisses Arthur’s neck.

“Excuse me.” There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and with difficulty, Arthur extracts himself from Peter’s embrace to face Daegal.

“Mr. River’s needs to see you, Arthur.”

“Certainly. I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”

Arthur doesn’t escape without having to endure a long kiss from the Mantoid prince.

He’s wiping his mouth when he walks into the team’s quarters to find Merlin staring at him, face unreadable, and the rest of the team gathered.

“What’s happened?” Arthur asks Gwaine, trying to control his voice. He’s aware that the hatchling has doubled in growth in a day’s time and that Freya is missing. Things don’t seem to be going their way at all, and with Agravaine tied in the basement and Peter literally breathing down Arthur’s neck, he’s more than feeling the stress. Merlin’s stare and the sensation of his magic tugging on Arthur’s soul, as well as the pleasant soreness in Arthur’s legs and arse from their previous night’s activities, isn’t helping.

Gwaine rises from his chair.

“We have some good news,” he says.

“We can certainly use some,” Arthur replies.

Morgana appears from the next room. “Arthur!” She seems upset, and Arthur goes to her.

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, tears forming in her eyes. At his confused look, she clarifies, “About my mother…Carlotta.”

Arthur’s face falls. “I only recently found out. I didn’t know how to tell you about Uther’s lies, Morgana.”

Morgana clings to Arthur. “I hate him,” she says. “My mother had magic.”

“You thought as much anyway,” Arthur says. “Igraine had it.”

“Yes, but…” Morgana shakes her head. “This seems different somehow. I don’t know. He lied! Why did he lie?”

“He had an affair with a married woman,” Arthur tells her, running his hand through her hair. The rest of the team moves away a bit to give them some privacy. “He didn’t want us to know.”

“He’s despicable,” Morgana says. “He loved two magic-users, and claims to hate them all. It’s his fault I’ve had to hide mine all these years! And now he’s lying again, saying he’s had a change of heart. I hate him!”

“Don’t waste your strength hating him.” Arthur kisses the top of her head.

Gwaine comes forward, just as Morgana says, “Nimueh told me.”

“What?” Arthur asks. “We can’t trust her!”

“She’s my aunt!”

“Arthur,” Gwaine puts in, “I think perhaps we can trust her. She isn’t on Uther’s side.”

Arthur turns to look for Merlin. When their eyes meet, he asks, “What do you think?”

Merlin comes forward, and Arthur feels strengthened with every step he takes toward him.

“I didn’t want to trust her, but she’s brought Freya back, and she seems sincere. Everyone seems to be surprising us these days—magic-users are uniting, whatever their disagreements.”

“Freya?” Arthur asks. “Where has she been?”

“Hiding out from your father,” Merlin answers, hand coming to rest on the small of Arthur’s back.

“Gods,” Arthur breathes. He suddenly realizes that Mordred’s in the room. When he found out that Mordred has magic and that he’s somewhat of a double agent, he didn’t know what to think. He still doesn’t. He stares at him.

“Hello, Arthur,” Mordred says.

Arthur gives him a curt nod.

“I’m taking Nimueh to speak to Julian,” Mordred says.

“I’m going, too,” Gwaine puts in. “I’d like you and Merlin to accompany us.”

Arthur nods and turns to Merlin, who takes his hand. “Let’s go.”


	28. Raw Nerves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who faithfully comment. Also a thank you to everyone for putting up with my mistakes!

 

Before anyone can fetch Nimueh from the other room, Morgana looks at Morgause and says, “Someone needs to get to Tintagel to warn the magic-users there. I’m willing to be that someone. Are you?”

The other woman nods.

“Whoa, now wait a minute.” Gwaine comes to stand beside them. “It very well could be a suicide mission. Uther’s got spies now. It isn’t safe.”

“But she’s right,” Mordred pipes up. “It has to be done. If Morgana’s caught, they may hesitate in killing her—at least long enough for her to kill them.”

“Morgana’s never killed anyone with her magic,” Arthur argues, letting go Merlin’s hand and going to his sister.

“That’s why I’ll bring a weapon. I can do this, Arthur.” She stares determinedly into his eyes.

“You need a medic. Elyan, or maybe Gwen,” Gwaine states matter-of-factly.

“Gwen is busy with Uther,” Daegal reminds him.

“I’ll say,” Will mutters under his breath.

Lance jumps up from his chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aw, defending her honour, are you?” Will asks derisively.

Gilly gets between them. “Come off it, you two.”

“Gwen is doing this for us.” Daegal says.

“Poor baby,” Vivian replies cattishly. “All the sex. Talk about taking one for the team!”

“Must be quite a ‘one’; she spends a lot of time in bed,” Will huffs. “More than need be, if you ask me.”

Lance’s face turns purple with outrage and jealousy. “Nobody’s asking you!”

“Oh, play the enraged boyfriend, why don’t you?” Will sneers. “You and Gwen never had anything going, because you couldn’t open your mouth to say anything to her. It’s no wonder she’s attracted to someone with a bit of power and spunk.”

At the word ‘spunk,’ Mordred snorts. “Uther has loads of spunk; believe me,” he says. Arthur makes a face.

Lance lunges at Will, who raises his fists, but Gwaine grabs Lance and pulls him back.

“We’ve been in close quarters for too long,” he states, pushing Lance back into a chair. “Stop this immediately!”

“This is making me very uncomfortable,” Arthur says long-sufferingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please talk about something else?”

Mordred snickers, and Arthur turns on him. “Don’t you say a word! And by the way, since you've got your finger on the pulse of every man’s cock at _Pendragon,_ what’s Cenred up to?”

“Just biding his time until he can take everything your father’s worked so hard for,” Mordred replies.

“Uther isn’t at his best—he must be truly enamoured with Miss Cummings.” Mordred slides his eyes Lance’s way. “But he’ll probably be after you today about Leon.”

“I’m getting worried about Leon,” Arthur sighs. “I don’t know what the last communication was about—Agravaine intercepted it. We have him tied up and out of the way in the basement.”

“Can’t you make him tell you?” Will asks, suddenly solemn.

“I’ve never been able to get very far with him,” Mordred says. “Straight as an arrow, that one.”

“I was speaking to Arthur,” Will says sharply. “And I meant beating it out of him.”

“So did I!” Mordred smiles slyly, and Will rolls his eyes.

“If it comes to that,” Arthur replies. “I hope to hear from Leon today.”

Arthur looks at Merlin, who’s listening intently to the conversation without adding to it, arms crossed over his chest. Arthur’s still staring at him when Morgana breaks into his thoughts.

“It’s settled, then. I’ll go immediately.”

“We’ll go,” Morgause says.

“Elyan will go with you, in case you need medical assistance,” Gwaine tells them, and Elyan nods. He’s been strangely quiet during the talk about his sister, which hasn’t gone unnoticed by Arthur.

Nimeuh, Freya, George, and Mithian have come into the room, drawn by the loud arguing. Arthur turns to look at Nimueh. She looks different than she had in the halls of _Pendragon_ : sans powersuit, she’s softer somehow. She wears flowing pants and a silk tunic the colour of sapphires. In her arms is a sleek grey cat with eyes that match its fur.

“Freya,” Arthur says, “I’m glad you’re all right.”

Freya smiles. Arthur notices that George has his hand wrapped in her tail; the gesture seems oddly intimate.

Morgana tells Nimueh of her plans to warn the people of Tintagel.

“I wish I could go with you, but I think I’d be of more help here,” Nimueh says. But perhaps I’ll send Tabitha with you.”

“Tabitha?” Morgana asks, confused.

“Your cat?” Freya frowns.

Nimueh puts the cat on the ground and whispers a spell over her, eyes flashing gold.

Suddenly, the cat is gone and there’s a woman standing before them with a tall, slender body, olive skin, and sharp bone structure. She’s quite striking, Arthur thinks. She’s also quite nude.

“Um, let me get her something to wear,” Morgause says. “I might have something to fit her.”

“It’s all right. I carry something in my bag. Come, Tabby,” Nimueh calls to her. The woman looks over the group with her odd, cat eyes before turning to follow her mistress, tail flicking behind her.

***

“Lamia!” Percy shouts when he finds her staring at the insectoid. The alien is going wild, sensing her magic and trying to escape its confines, long legs waving hideously about. “Get out of there.” He yanks her into the next room by the arm.

“It’s horrible,” Lamia shudders. “I just wanted to see it.”

Percy looks through the peephole. “It’s settling down now. It sensed your magic. Don’t go in there again—we don’t want it to break out.”

“Soon hundreds of those will be upon us,” Lamia says, squeezing Percy’s arm.  He pets her hair, and she snuggles farther into his embrace

“Percy,” Lamia whispers after a moment, “what do you suppose would happen if we were to murder Uther in his sleep? Would all this madness stop?”

Percy thinks it over seriously. “No.” He finally shakes his head. “I think he’s set it in motion, and someone will take advantage of it. If not Uther, then Cenred. If not Cenred, then Agravaine or someone else.”

“What are we going to do?” Lamia’s voice is choked.

“A group has gone to gather the magic-users from Tintagel now. I’ve heard tell that some are trickling in from other places and hiding in a cavern Arthur has designated. We’re just waiting for Leon.”

“What if something’s happened to him?” Lamia asks, wrapping her arms tighter around Percy’s waist. “I’m afraid, Percy.”

Percy squeezes her tightly to him. “So am I.”

***

Arthur can’t stop staring at Mordred with Julian Brightwith; he’s like a different man. The two are so obviously in love, Arthur’s touched by it. He wonders that Mordred can go from bed to bed like he does, even in the name of protecting magic, and then return to this man’s bed. How can Julian wipe it from his mind? Arthur glances at Merlin, sitting close beside him, and imagines he’s thinking much the same thing.

All the world thinks Julian Brightwith is a family man with a wife, children, and elderly father;  but that’s obviously a farce made up to make Uther think he has some leverage over the sorcerer. Of course, if Uther had ever gotten wind that Mordred was what Julian truly prized, Mordred would be in great danger. Arthur knows that if Uther knew Mordred had played him like he did, Uther would tear him limb from limb. In light of all this, Arthur can’t help but look at his former PA with new respect.

“It is somewhat of a surprise to see you here, Nimueh,” Julian says.

“I have sat on the sidelines long enough,” Nimueh says. “I cannot let my kind be taken down.”

“I’m sure you’re at the top of the list for Uther to get rid of,” Julian remarks. “You weren’t so naïve as to think you were special to him, were you?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve played the middle of the fence, but when it comes down to it, I’m a magic-user. That’s at my core.”

Julian nods. He holds Mordred’s hand tightly in his. “I hope we can trust you. I would hate to think that one of our own would go against us at a time like this.”

“You have nothing to fear,” she replies. “You have my word.”

“Which means precisely nothing.” Julian tilts his head. “Would you be willing to let me see inside your mind?”

Nimueh’s face shows real fear for the first time, and Arthur hears Merlin’s sharp intake of breath.

“If it’s the only way you’ll believe me,” she replies stiffly, straightening her back.

Julian stands and comes toward her. Placing his hand on the top of her head, he closes his eyes. Nimueh immediately stiffens as though electrified, a look of intense pain overwhelming her face. Her body begins shaking, and Arthur can see a golden light radiating from the palm of Julian’s hand into Nimueh’s skull.  

It seems to go on forever, with Nimueh convulsing and whimpering. When she cries out, Arthur starts to stand up, but Merlin pulls him back by the hand. Merlin keeps his eyes pinned to Julian and Nimueh, lips pressed together in a tight line. When Julian finally lets her go, Nimueh crumples to the ground, breathing hard, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry,” Julian says. “But if you hadn’t been so intent on playing with the enemy, that wouldn’t have been necessary.”

Nimueh nods. “I understand,” she replies hoarsely. Mordred crosses the room to pour her a cup of water.

“She’s sincere,” Julian tells the others.

Gwaine, who’s been watching from his seat near the door, leans forward. “Gilly and Daegal are going to the cavern tonight to meet the first wave of magic-users.” He looks at Arthur. “Any word from Leon?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Nimueh comes to sit on Arthur’s other side and looks at him and Merlin. “I can feel the bond between the two of you,” she tells them, sipping her water. “It hasn’t completely sealed.”

“It seals a little more every time…well,” Merlin looks at Arthur and they both blush a little.

“I see,” Nimueh says. “You have great magic, Merlin.”

Merlin glances at Gwaine.

“Evidently I’m directly in line for the Hekian throne,” Merlin tells Nimueh, and Arthur can see that he’s uncomfortable saying this.

Nimueh’s eyes widen. “Of course. Gods, and here you’ve branded Uther’s son. That’s brilliant! The two of you uniting will make us strong!”

Arthur looks to Merlin. “We…er…haven’t exactly discussed uniting.”

“Your father will have you bedded to that Mantoid within days, Arthur,” Nimueh says. “He’ll probably eat you post-orgasm.”

Merlin’s face grows red. “Over my dead body will he ever get the opportunity!”

Arthur feels Merlin’s magic swirling around the two of them like a cyclone, and he squeezes Merlin’s hand, still held in his. Static prickles through the air.

“Amazing,” Nimueh says, leaning back. She looks at Gwaine. “I would like to go to the caverns, too. I’m eager to speak to others with magic.”

“I’ll take you there,” Gwaine says.

“Mordred and I will be moving there, also,” Julian announces. “It isn’t safe here anymore.”

“I’m going to _Pendragon_ and see if I can make contact with Leon,” Arthur says. “Merlin, will you accompany me?”

“Of course,” Merlin replies.


	29. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. It's been hectic! Thanks for those who have commented; I love hearing your thoughts. Lurkers, please peek out and say hello!

 

“You were awfully quiet in there,” Arthur says on the ride to _Pendragon._ “Mind telling me why?”

“Frankly, I was waiting for the blow-up,” Merlin replies, turning in his seat so he can watch Arthur’s face.

“Blow up?” Arthur frowns irritably, checking his rearview mirror before passing a car. “What are you on about?”

Merlin sees how Arthur’s hands clench the steering wheel, knuckles white, and he softens his tone. “I know you’re worried about your friend.  I’m sorry about that. But Arthur, there we stood with Mordred, who used you—“

Arthur barks out a sharp laugh. “If you think I was in love with Mordred, you have another think coming!”

Merlin’s magic stirs, and Merlin fights to keep his voice calm.

“I don’t think you were in love with him, but you were intimate with him for months. That has to mean something.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches. “What little feeling I have about that---and there isn’t much, because Mordred was a pushy bastard at the best of times,—was totally drowned out by being in the same room with _her._ ”

“You kept your cool, though,” Merlin says casually. It’s meant as praise, but Merlin has to be careful—he can tell Arthur’s on edge. He can _feel_ it. He wants to take Arthur in his arms, soothe and caress him, but he instinctively knows Arthur won’t appreciate it. How he must feel after years of being drugged and manipulated, Merlin can’t imagine.

Arthur clenches his teeth so hard, Merlin worries he’ll crack one. “When she showed up at the mansion, I wanted to put my hands around her neck and squeeze until her eyes bulged.”

Merlin nods. “I know. I could feel it.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and lets it out. “But we need her.”

“What amazes me is that you were going to go to her aid when Julian was mind-delving.”

Arthur shrugs. “I don’t know. It was automatic.”

“You’re a good man, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin says softly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe that at first. My magic was so drawn to you, and I felt betrayed by it. I was angry.” He swallows, very aware that he still has that incredible urge…as much as he loves Arthur, and he knows he does…to roughly pin Arthur down and take him. He looks out the window, feeling ashamed—he’s hard just thinking about it.

Merlin’s magic swirls between them, and Arthur shifts in his seat. He makes a right turn, pulling up to the garage keypad at the entrance to _Pendragon Industries._ He types in a code and the gates open.

When parked, Arthur unbuckles and turns to Merlin. “If we don’t make contact with Leon, I don’t know what we’re going to do. I could pilot the aircraft, but I don’t know the coordinates or even where the planet is that Leon found for us.” He takes a shaky breath. “I should have made sure I had that information the last time I spoke to him, but the connection was bad…”

Merlin reaches out and thumbs away the crease between Arthur’s brows.

“We’ll work it out somehow.” He leans in and kisses Arthur softly, heart lightening as Arthur’s agitation seems to ease a bit.

They exit the car and take the service elevator to the fifth floor where Arthur pauses in the hallway.

“To hell with the junk in the storeroom…Agravaine’s probably trashed it anyway. I need to go in the control room and use the good stuff. Can you get rid of the men in there?”

Merlin steps toward the doorway and peers through the narrow side window. “I think I can do that.”

His eyes flash gold and the three men inside slump to the ground. Arthur opens the door, and they slip inside.

“What did you do to them?” he asks, stepping over one to punch instructions into the machine.

“I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re asking,” Merlin says, standing beside the door and keeping a look-out. “I just put them to sleep for a while.”

Arthur sends out Leon’s call number, and leans back to wait, staring at the monitor as though he can will it to blink to life, every so often glancing at the three men slumbering on the floor where they slid off their chairs. Several long moments pass before the screen comes to life, and Leon’s anxious face appears. Arthur breaks into a relieved smile.

“Leon! Thank God!”

“Arthur, what happened?” Leon’s face is lined with worry. “I saw Agravaine and ended our connection, but he must have heard the first part of it…”

“He did,” Arthur says. “We got to him before he could tell Father, though. Leon, where are you? We’re running out of time!”

“I’ve been stuck on Orcus. A huge meteor shower did some damage to my ship, but I’ve got it fixed. I was going to wait another hour to hear from you and then set out for Earth with my fingers crossed about what I’ll be walking into.”

“We’re gathering the magic-users.” Arthur begins to type. “Here are the coordinates for where I want you to land. Can you make it here by daybreak?”

“If we leave now, I think so.”

“Don’t contact me again, Leon. Just send me the planet’s coordinates, just in case, yeah?” He looks steadily at his friend’s face.

Leon nods, understanding. “Reggie is signaling that the ship is fueled. We’ll be on our way shortly. Oh, and Arthur—is everyone there…okay?”

Arthur smirks. “Will is just fine. I’ll send him your regards.”

Leon colours, and Arthur chuckles. The transmission ends. As Arthur waits for the coordinates to print out, Merlin goes about positioning the men in their chairs. Printout in hand, Arthur turns to Merlin and they slip out. Merlin stops outside the doorway and waves a finger at the men inside, who begin to stir.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be suspicious or not, but we’d better get out of here.”

They hurry to the lift.

“Where are we going now?” Merlin asks as Arthur pulls out of the garage and heads in the opposite direction of the mansion.

“The caverns. I want to see what’s going on.” He stops at a light and takes out his mobile. “I have a message from my second in command. A small squadron is guarding the caverns.” He pockets the mobile again. “What’s the name of the planet?” he asks Merlin, who takes the piece of paper Arthur printed out and looks it over.

“Iam,” he says. “Never heard of it.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Neither have I.”

Merlin takes out his telroid and begins typing. “It says here it’s on the very edge of the Pleno galaxy, but that’s all the information available.”

“Pleno—very little’s known about that galaxy,” Arthur muses, taking a turn onto a narrow, winding road surrounded by pines, one of the few trees that still grow plentifully on Earth. “We’ll just have to trust that Leon scoped it out enough.”

“How did you find these caverns?” Merlin asks as they drive deeper into the woods.

“Freya.” Arthur pulls over and parks the car. “They’re near one of the entrances to the underground.” He unbuckles his seat belt. “We’ll have to walk from here.”

They set out, not talking much because the hike is so arduous. When they finally make it to a jagged mountain face, Arthur leads Merlin to a narrow opening in the ground.

“You’re kidding,” Merlin says. “It’s a hole.”

“We have to drop down into it,” Arthur tells him. “You want me to go first?”

Merlin makes a face. “I’m not good in small spaces.”

“You’re fucked, then,” Arthur tells him, already climbing in. “You can wait out here for me,” he says, eyes twinkling before his head disappears inside the hole.

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Merlin mutters, already feeling his magic prodding him to follow. There’s no way in hell he’s waiting out here while Arthur disappears into a hole in the ground to encounter who knows what. Gingerly, he sits at the edge as Arthur had, dangling his long legs inside the opening. Taking a breath, he lowers himself in.

Arthur catches Merlin just below the arse, slowly bringing him to the ground until they’re entwined in one another’s arms.

“Not too bad,” Merlin says after Arthur finishes kissing him. Arthur smiles.

“Come on.”

Merlin looks around the dank, earthy interior as Arthur takes his hand and leads him down a long corridor. Ahead, Merlin can just see a dim, blue light. As they get closer to it, he realizes it’s really several lights—all small orbs manifested by magic-users.

“Merlin!” A familiar voice cries out, and he turns, surprised to see an old friend.

“Sabra!” He hugs her and then pulls back, looking her over. “You’re as pretty as ever.”

“And I suppose you’re still more interested in men,” Sabra sighs, amber eyes dancing.

Merlin turns and gestures to Arthur. “One in particular.”                    

Arthur flushes and steps forward.

“Arthur, this is an old friend of mine, Sabra Challis.”

“Hello,” Sabra says as Arthur shakes her hand. “I guess that makes you our fearless leader, yeah?”

“That’s right,” Merlin answers for Arthur. “Where is everyone?”

“Farther back,” Sabra answers. “I’m just on my way to get water. There’s a spring down that way.”

She points down another corridor.

“Are there many magic-users here?” Arthur asks.

“About fifty, I’d say,” Sabra replies. “Mostly from Avalon.” She tucks a strand of her reddish-gold hair behind her ear and grins. “I’ll see you shortly.”

“Do you need some help?” Arthur asks.

“No, thanks,” Sabra shakes her head. “I’m going to do a little washing up, too. A few others set out that way earlier, so I won’t be alone.”

Merlin waves to her and he and Arthur continue on.

“She’s pretty,” Arthur comments, and Merlin detects an odd note in his voice.

“Jealous?”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous.”

Merlin doesn’t reply. The next corridor is darker than the first, and he conjures a ball of light.

“I mean, who you dated is your business,” Arthur murmurs, and Merlin hides his grin.

“We didn’t date. We were friends. I like blokes, in case you hadn’t noticed. Besides, my relationships never went very far, considering my former lack of sex drive.”

Arthur relaxes a little, and Merlin feels his magic bubbling between them, as though amused. Merlin reaches out and takes Arthur’s hand, tugging him close, the glowing orange orb bouncing about over their heads.

Running his hand down Arthur’s face, Merlin leans in and presses a kiss to Arthur’s cheek.

“I wish all of this wasn’t going on, and we could have some privacy.”

Arthur’s blue eyes darken. “So do I.” Merlin feels Arthur’s fingers brush the length of his cock, which is hard in his pants, as it usually is around Arthur. Merlin sucks in a breath.

“What you do to me, Arthur…you don’t know. I’ve gone my entire life without any interest in physical pleasure, and then you come along, and I just want...”

Arthur gives Merlin a longing look, and that’s all Merlin needs to press him against the wall, mouth covering Arthur’s.

Arthur pulls at Merlin, fists tightening in the folds of Merlin’s jacket as his hips urgently strain forward. Merlin eagerly assaults Arthur’s mouth with his tongue, unable to get enough, groin undulating against Arthur’s in an age-old rhythm.

Soon they’re both breathing hard, sweat breaking out all over their bodies.

“Merlin,” Arthur groans, leaning back and revealing his long neck for Merlin to ravage with his lips and teeth. “Uhhhhh….oh, fuck!”

Beside himself with need, Arthur’s noises of desire and frustration egging him on, Merlin drops to his knees and unfastens Arthur’s trousers, pressing his face into the musky warmth of his groin.

Arthur moans as Merlin draws him out and into his mouth, sucking and licking eagerly.

“Holy—“ Arthur grabs Merlin’s head with both hands, and Merlin lets him thrust into his mouth, gagging a little but moaning at the same time.

Merlin takes his own cock out of his pants and strokes it, loving the feel of Arthur fucking his mouth with abandon. When Arthur comes, he’s shoved so far into Merlin’s throat, Merlin barely tastes the spunk as he swallows it. A couple more strokes and he comes on his hand, shuddering at the release.

Arthur wipes the tears from Merlin’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

Merlin stands on shaky legs. “It’s okay. It was good.” He kisses Arthur softly, small pecks all along his kiss-swollen mouth. He sighs, leaning forward so their foreheads touch. “That got rid of some tension, yeah?”

Arthur smiles, arms heavy with repletion as he wraps them around Merlin’s shoulders. “Yeah.” He pecks Merlin on the nose, and they straighten their clothes before continuing on.


	30. Caverns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana, Morgause, Elyan, and Tabitha have gone to Tintagel to try to bring out the magic-users there. Merlin and Arthur pause in the caverns for a little nooky.
> 
> In this chapter: Gwaine reflects a little and becomes an accidental voyeur. Lance realizes Gwen may not be for him. Uther enjoys Thomas' "magic" fingers. Gwen does what she has to.

Gwaine rubs at his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, as he’s sure most of them haven’t.

He sits on a slab of rock, kindly warmed by one of the magic-users, and watches people mingling in the cavern. Gwaine doesn’t have magic, but he’s been around magic-users all his life. His grandmother had magic, and his best friend growing up did, too. Both had to move out of Camelot due to Uther’s ban against it, and Gwaine misses them terribly. He feels lucky his grandmother and his friend escaped, unlike some, such as Merlin’s older brother. It’s one of the reasons he volunteered to bring Nimueh to the caverns—he’s hoping to see them.

Looking at Nimueh, he thinks about Tabitha, who left for Tintagel with Morgana, Morgause, and Elyan less than an hour ago. She isn’t a Gattoian, but rather a familiar—able to change from her animal form to human form and back again. She’s the first familiar he’s ever seen—only the strongest of sorceresses have them. He hopes she can fight, for the others’ sake.

Gwaine sighs and gets up, thinking he’ll go explore a little. He walks under the archway, his steps echoing a little on the stone floor. There are constant dripping sounds all around, and the air is chilly and damp. Partway through the corridor, Gwaine comes upon two people locked in an embrace. Recognizing  Merlin and Arthur, obviously in the middle of something, he backs into a dark nook to wait until they finish and move on. The brief glimpse he got of the couple replays itself in Gwaine’s mind as he listens to Arthur’s gasps of pleasure and the erotic sounds of Merlin gagging and moaning at the same time--Merlin falling to his knees in front of Arthur—the bobbing orange orb casting a glow on their lust-laden features.

Gwaine reaches down and squeezes the hardness in his pants. It hasn’t been easy for him watching Merlin with Arthur; when Gwaine first met Merlin, he was very taken with the young sorcerer and his analytical mind and delightful smile. But Gwaine quickly figured out that Merlin had little interest in physical love, and that’s something Gwaine simply can’t live without.

So he gave up on Merlin. And then they came to Camelot and Merlin encountered Arthur.

Peering around the corner, Gwaine bites his lip at the obvious enthusiasm Merlin exhibits toward sex with Arthur. Arthur’s fingers thread through Merlin’s thick hair, his hips jutting forward, fucking Merlin’s pretty mouth. And there’s no doubt Merlin’s enjoying it—moaning and gripping Arthur’s thigh, fisting his own cock with one hand.

Of course, Gwaine’s research into Merlin’s ancestry threw a little light on things, and Merlin understands better. Arthur is obviously meant for Merlin and always has been. It makes Gwaine glad he didn’t get involved with the sorcerer—it would only have led to heartache. He does wonder what their bond means—Nimueh seems to think it’s important. He makes a note to talk to her about it, along with Lamia, who knows quite a bit about the Hekanians.

Gwaine waits. When sounds of Merlin and Arthur’s completion echo throughout the corridor, Gwaine hears them murmuring to one another. He takes a peek, sees that they’re fixing their clothing before moving off toward the open end of the cavern, and quickly Gwaine slips out of his corner, hurries in the other direction and around the corner.

It seems that everywhere he goes, Gwaine runs into people getting amorous. It must be the whole end-of-the-world scenario playing out—everyone thinks they have to get it while they can. Just before he left the Pendragon mansion, he walked in on Percy vigorously thrusting into Lamia, her back against the wall of the lab and legs curled about his middle. Gwaine immediately backed out, embarrassed. _But, hell!_ He thinks now. _They shouldn’t have been doing it in the lab, without even bothering to lock the door!_

“Gwaine,” Lance’s voice pulls Gwaine out of his thoughts. He stops, realizing he was walking very fast; so fast, he hadn’t seen Lance sitting in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” he asks, peering through the semi-darkness at Lance’s handsome face. Another failed crush, Lance’s Mediterranean looks appealed to Gwaine the moment he laid eyes on him. He’d thought about asking Lance out, but it quickly became apparent that Lance was interested in Gwen.

“I just had to get away from everyone to think,” Lance answers.

Gwaine wants to move on and out into the open air, but Lance looks so miserable, he can’t help himself; he goes to sit beside him.

“It’s chilly here,” he says.

“I guess so,” Lance looks at Gwaine. “Do you think I’m boring?”

Gwaine, taken aback by the unexpected question, stares for a moment before answering. “No, Lance. I think you’re…well, charming. You have a great sense of humour.”

Something stirs in Lance’s eyes. “Really?”

Gwaine nods. “Actually, when you first joined the team, I had a bit of a crush on you.”

“You did?” Lance asks, disbelieving. “You never let on.”

“Well, you seemed to have a thing for Gwen.”

Lance nods. “I did.” He bites his lip. “But I don’t think she likes me very much, and I’m not sure how I feel about her now.”

Gwaine puts a hand on Lance’s arm. “She’s just playing a role, you know. Sometimes we have to do things that aren’t so pleasant.”

Lance’s dark eyes, so deep and sincere, meet Gwaine’s. “I think she finds it quite pleasant. Unlike sleeping with me.”

Gwaine doesn’t know what to say to that. Finally, he goes with a simple, “I’m sorry, mate.”

Lance sighs. “That’s okay. To be honest, it wasn’t the greatest for me, either. I imagined it would be different. I spent a lot of time mooning over her…she always seemed so lovely and innocent. But she isn’t. Innocent, I mean. Not like I thought.”

“You put her on a pedestal. No one can live up to that,” Gwaine tells him honestly. “Just because she wasn’t compliant in bed doesn’t mean she’s a slag.”

Lance shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I meant, exactly. Maybe I’m just not as attracted to her physically as I thought.” He looks at Gwaine again. “Did you really have a crush on me?”

Gwaine laughs, trying to cover his blush. “Why would I say it if it wasn’t true?”

“To make me feel better. You feel sorry for me because I’ve been sulking after Gwen, and she’s having the time of her life with Uther.”

“I don’t think she’s having all that great of a time. She reports to me, remember. Lance, if you really want Gwen, you could have her. There’s no way this thing with Uther will last. You know what’s going down.”

“I don’t think I want her, now,” Lance says. “I didn’t feel a connection.” He sighs. “I wish I’d known you fancied me.”

“Would it really have made a difference?” Gwaine asks.

“I think so. I’ve been confused. Having a handsome bloke like you fancy me is kind of—well—titillating.”

Gwaine grins. “Titillating?”

Lance nods, smiling, too. He suddenly leans in and presses a kiss to Gwaine’s mouth, soft and sweet.

Gwaine can’t help himself; he melts into the kiss, liking the little gasp that escapes Lance’s lips before he shifts, deepening it.

Gwaine threads his fingers through Lance’s hair, cradling the back of his head as he opens his mouth and meets Lance’s tongue, warm and inviting.

One of them groans, or maybe it was both of them. Lance turns a little, reaching out to pull Gwaine in closer. The kiss goes on and on, their mouths moving restlessly over one another, a fire kindling within Gwaine’s loins. It’s been too long since he’s been with anyone, and Lance is delicious.

“Wow,” Lance says when they finally part. “That was…that was really hot!”

Gwaine laughs. “I thought so, too.”

A commotion at the end of the tunnel draws their attention.

“I think we have some new arrivals,” Lance says, and Gwaine stands.

“We’d better go meet them, then.” He squeezes Lance’s hand.

***

“Where is my son?” Uther demands, his mobile on speaker. He grunts as Thomas pushes unerringly on his prostate, massaging with two fingers.

Uther’s had a long day, and the fact that he can’t locate Arthur is driving him crazy.

“He’s not answering his mobile.”

“I’ll check again, Mr. Pendragon.” Gaius disconnects.

“Relax, sir,” Thomas tells him soothingly. Uther grunts again and sighs.

“Have I ever told you that you have magic fingers, Thomas?”

“Magic, sir?” Thomas asks, voice unsteady as he applies pressure, eliciting a long shudder throughout Uther’s prone body.

“Figuratively speaking, of course,” Uther says when he can speak again.

“Of course,” Thomas echoes, prushing and prodding again and again until he’s sure Uther is completely spent. Uther trembles in the aftermath, listening to Thomas taking off the latex gloves and putting away the oils. The prostate milking was the end of a glorious massage session, and Uther feels relaxed and liquified. He’s dozing off to sleep when Thomas comes back into the room.

“Miss Cummings is here, sir. Shall I tell her you’re sleeping?”

“No, Thomas, usher her in.”

“Would you like your robe, sir?”

“Not necessary.”

A moment later, Gwen appears in the doorway to Uther’s bedroom.

“Hello, my dear,” Uther greets her, holding out a hand. She comes forward and takes it. “Thomas and I have just had a session.”

“Well,” Gwen says, her eyes running over his bare body. “I hope you feel better. I’ve just come to say I can’t have dinner with you. I have to do some work with the team.”

“What’s happened?” Uther asks. “Has the blasted egg hatched?”

Gwen knows there’s no keeping this information from Uther; he can just go downstairs and see for himself. Besides that, he’s got to know the eggs are hatching in Essetir.

“It has,” she says. “It’s some sort of…insectoid. Gwaine’s preparing a report for you.”

“Insectoid? Is it vicious? Does he think they will attack?”

“It only just hatched an hour ago,” Gwen lies. “We’re working on it.” She leans down and kisses his cheek. “So I won’t see you again tonight, I’m afraid.”

Uther pushes himself up. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll come with you. Have you seen my son? I’ve been trying to get hold of him, but he isn’t answering.”

Gwen shakes her head, heart beating faster. She can’t let Uther come with her. She’s come prepared for this.

She reaches out and steadies Uther with her hand as he stands. “Well, get dressed then,” she says brightly.

He kisses her and goes to his closet.

Gwen looks to the bedside table where there’s a glass and a pitcher of water. Taking a small vial from her pocket, she pours a bit into the glass and then pours water into it.

“Drink some of this,” she tells Uther when he comes back, leaving her lip prints on the side of the glass as though she’d just been drinking from it. “You need to rehydrate after your session.”

“You’re so good to me,” Uther tells her, and takes the glass, downing half of it. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she says, before stepping forward and pressing herself against him. “May I have another kiss first?”

A slow smile spreads across Uther’s face. “Most certainly.”

As their snogging grows heated, Gwen feels Uther begin to teeter on his feet. She pushes him back to lie on the bed, climbing over him to continue kissing. His hands soon slip from her arms and his mouth falls lax. With a smile, Gwen climbs off the bed, covering Uther with a light blanket.

When she turns, she runs straight into Thomas.

 

 

 


	31. Responsibilites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur must keep Peter in the dark. Merlin learns a bit of what it might mean to be Prince. Love in a corner of the cavern.

Gwen stands frozen to the spot. There isn’t anything she can possibly say if Thomas saw her drugging Uther’s drink. She swallows.

Then Thomas does something unexpected. With a flash of his eyes, Gwen’s purse levitates from the chair and into her hands.

“Don’t forget your bag, Miss Cummings,” he says.

“T-Thomas?” Gwen breathes. “You have magic?”

Thomas smiles. “I’ve heard you’re working on a solution to all this.”

Gwen nods.

“How long will he be out?” Thomas cocks his head toward Uther’s now-snoring form.

“All night, at least,” Gwen replies, still dazed.

“Well, I might as well go with you, then. To the caverns?”

“You know about them?” Gwen asks, amazed. But, of course, if Thomas has magic, he’s been in the loop with the magic-users.

Thomas grins. “I’ll get my bag. It’s been packed for a week and hidden in a cupboard.”

***

“You’re worried about Morgana,” Merlin murmurs in Arthur’s ear, breath stirring golden blond hair. He’s been watching Arthur for a long time. After Arthur’s heartfelt speech to the magic-users present in the caverns, he sat down and proceeded to stare off into space while Merlin spoke with people he knows.

Arthur blinks, looking at Merlin. “Yes,” he says. “What if they can’t get there and back in time?”

“There will be more than one run to the planet,” Merlin soothes. “There will have to be. We can’t get them all on one ship.”

“I’d prefer my sister to be on the first,” Arthur says, looking away again.

Merlin puts his hand on Arthur’s. “It will be all right. This is almost over.”

Arthur takes a deep breath. “I have to go back to the mansion, Merlin.”

“We’ll have to get our things,” Merlin agrees.

“I’ll get them,” Arthur says. “I have to stay. For one more night.”

Alarm seizes Merlin’s gut and twists. “Why?”

“Peter. My father…we don’t want them suspicious.”

Merlin grips Arthur’s hand harder than he means to. “No, Arthur. Stay here. They won’t look here.”

“But they’ll wonder. We need to keep them in the dark.” Arthur’s eyes are serious.

“And if they get wind of it while you’re there?” Merlin shakes his head, magic stirring restlessly inside him at the thought of Arthur in danger. “No, no. I can’t let you go.”

“You don’t have a choice, Merlin!” Arthur says sharply. “You may have branded me, but you don’t own me!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Merlin says, contrite. His fear must show in his eyes, because Arthur leans forward and kisses him softly.

“I have to go,” Arthur tells him, hand brushing down the side of Merlin’s face. “If you think about it clearly, you’ll understand.”

Merlin gets his mobile out of the pocket of his trousers and dials.

“Who are you calling?” Arthur asks.

“Gwen.” He waits. “Gwen? Are you alone?”

After a short conversation, Merlin turns to Arthur. “Gwen’s drugged your father because he wouldn’t leave her alone. He’s out for the night.”

“And Peter?” Arthur raises a brow. “I have to be there for him, and now you know Father won’t be tying me up or having me killed.”

“That’s not funny,” Merlin says seriously, worry eating at him.

Arthur sighs. “I’m going, Merlin, and you can’t stop me.” He stands.

Merlin stands, too. “I’m going with you, then.”

“No,” Arthur puts a hand on Merlin’s chest, and magic sparks between them. “You need to stay here with the other magic-users.”

“Arthur, I am not letting you go back to that insectoid alone!” Merlin snaps.

“Lovers quarrel?” Nimueh appears at their sides, eyes curious. “There are magical fireworks going off all around you two.”

“None of your business!” Arthur growls.

“Oh,” she pouts, “angry at me? I’ll have you know, your father can be awfully persuasive when he wants to be.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Arthur turns away from her.

“Arthur, put aside your anger for a moment, would you?” Nimueh asks. Merlin thinks she sounds amused, and it grates on his nerves.

“What do you want?” he asks her. “This is a private conversation.”

“If it’s about what’s going on, it isn’t private any longer. In fact, nothing’s private about the two of you together.”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin asks, irritated.

“You’re a Hekanian prince. _The_ Hekanian prince. And he’s your chosen mate.”

“All very romantic,” Arthur says a little snarky, “but it’ll have to wait until this is all over.”

“I don’t think so,” Nimueh shakes her head. “There’s discord among the magic-users—they sense your bond isn’t complete.”

“What do they care?” Arthur asks, exasperated. “Our relationship isn’t a fucking soap opera for their entertainment!”

“Nimueh, go away,” Merlin tells her, tired of her dramatics. Frankly, his head hurts and has been hurting for the better part of an hour.

“You really don’t know a thing about your heritage, do you?” she asks, amazed. “The Hekanian prince has responsibilities, and the fact that your intended mate is the son of our enemy means quite a bit in this situation! And it has _everything_ to do with us!”

Merlin sighs, and Arthur shakes his head.

“You stay and learn about your responsibilities, Merlin, and I’ll go back to the mansion. I’ll be here before daybreak and we’ll go to the landing spot together.” He kisses Merlin softly.

Merlin’s too tired to argue anymore, but prods his magic to look after Arthur and watches him go.

“You are a pain in the arse,” he tells Nimueh as he sits down and rubs his head.

“Maybe, but I know what I’m talking about. You are the Prince, Merlin. That makes us your people.” She looks about the room and calls out to someone. A moment later, an older man with a flowing grey beard walks slowly over to them.

“Merlin, this is Ezzie. He has a strong Hekanian heritage.”

“Merlin…” Ezzie’s eyes open wide and he bows, grasping Merlin’s hand and kissing it.

Merlin pulls his hand away, a little alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“Paying homage to my Prince!” Ezzie looks to be beside himself with fervour.

“Well, that isn’t necessary,” Merlin assures him.

Lamia and Percy have arrived, spending a moment to speak with Arthur on his way out, and make their way to the trio.

“It’s only natural, Merlin,” Lamia tells him, hearing Ezzie’s last statement. “It’s an honour for us full-blooded Hekanians to meet our prince in person.”

“This makes me very uncomfortable,” Merlin mumbles, head pounding.

The touch of Nimueh’s cool hand on the back of his neck makes Merlin jump. “I think there’s a reason you’re feeling terrible.”

“Yes, and it has to do with you harping at me!” Merlin snaps at her.

Nimueh remains nonplussed. She looks past him to Lamia and Ezzie.

“Merlin has not completed his bond with Arthur.”

“Not in the traditional sense,” Lamia says, eyes knowing.

“This is really none of your business,” Merlin groans, lifting his hand from his eyes.

“My Prince, there is a ceremony to complete the bond,” Ezzie tells him solemnly.

Merlin stands up. “I need some air.” He stalks away, scooting between people and heading for the entrance. His steps falter on the way out when he spots Gwaine and Lance snogging in a dark corner of the corridor. _When did that happen?_ He continues on.

Merlin searches the part of his mind always in tune with Arthur. Reassured that he’s all right for the time being, Merlin finds the hole and the wooden stool and hoists himself out into open air.

The night is cold, and Merlin’s breath hangs in the air. The moon is a dull, pale thing barely discernable in the night sky, the stars outshining it a thousandfold.

“Merlin?”

Merlin turns to find Sabra sitting on a rock smoking.

“Hi,” he says, taking a seat beside her.

“Are you okay? You look kind of green about the gills,” she says.

He nods. “Just tired.”

“Your boyfriend’s yummy,” she says, grinning. “Nice arse.”

Merlin laughs. “Yeah. Definitely.” He sighs. “I’m worried about him, though. He’s right in the middle of all of this.”

“Doesn’t your magic protect him?” Sabre asks. “I mean, I could see your bond.”

Merlin looks at her. “You could?”

She nods. “I think most magic-users can. At least, if they have enough Hekanian blood.”

“My magic stays with him, but I don’t know how much it can protect him. Our bond isn’t complete.”

He tells her what Nimueh and the others are saying, and Sabra’s mouth falls open.

“You’re the prince?” she asks, dropping her cigarette.

Merlin rolls his eyes. “So they say.”

“Oi! That’s…I can’t believe it!”

“Neither can I, actually,” Merlin says.

“I mean, I always knew your magic was more powerful than the rest of ours, but…” she shakes her head. “I should have seen this coming!”

Merlin gives her a look. “Oh, come on! I’m not princely material!”

“You really are,” Sabra says, putting a hand on his arm. “And your bond with your intended isn’t complete. Maybe that’s why you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Merlin says on a chuckle.

Sabra smiles. “Well, it’s a thought. There really is supposed to be some big ceremony for completing the Prince’s bond with his consort.”

Merlin cringes. “Oh, Arthur will just _love_ being a consort! Sabra, it isn’t like we’re going to Heka to live.”

“Might as well be,” Sabra says. “Think about it; all the magic-users on a new planet. It’ll be the New Heka!”

Merlin shoves her lightly with his shoulder.

“I’m not kidding!” she says, but smiles. “Come on. Let’s go back inside. It’s freezing out here!”

***

“There’s nothing even mildly boring about you,” Gwaine teases, nipping at Lance’s neck as he moves inside him.

Lance gasps. “Fuck…oh, holy shit, Gwaine…what are you doing?”

Gwaine laughs. “I’ll give you three guesses.” He thrusts again.

Lance moans, pushing back into him. They’ve found a relatively private place, and Gwaine’s made a bed of their jackets. It’s cold, but it didn’t take them long to warm up. The long expanse of Lance’s back is soft and moulded to Gwaine’s chest and stomach as he holds Lance’s leg up with one arm and sinks into his warmth. Lance cries out, head falling back, and Gwaine steals a sweet kiss.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he asks him, and it’s true. Gwaine’s legs almost turned to butter when he first got a glimpse of Lance’s bare arse. It’s the perfect cushion against his groin.

Lance gasps and groans in reply, pushing back into Gwaine again, pulling a long moan out of Gwaine as sensation overloads his body.

Gwaine loses it then, picking up the pace, sweat breaking out on his temples as he anchors one arm around Lance’s strong chest and viciously plunges in and out, Lance's cries of ardour filling the area around them and echoing off the walls.

Bliss breaks over them simultaneously, making them shudder in one another’s arms.


	32. Leon's Back in Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm sure my lack of space knowledge is painfully obvious. Please suspend belief. *cringes at my lack of abilities*

Arthur is packing when the knock on his door causes him to shove the bag closed and hide it under the bed. He pulls his shirt on in case it’s Peter, not wanting to be half-undressed in the Mantoid Prince’s presence. Arthur chuckles wryly to himself when he realizes that he has two princes vying for his affection. Who would have thought?

When he opens the door to find Leon standing on the other side, a smile breaks out on Arthur’s face.

“Thank heaven!” he pulls his friend inside and into a hug. “How did you get here ahead of schedule?”

“Made good time,” Leon says, looking at his watch. “I came straight here after leaving the ship where you told me to. I just dodged Cenred in the hallway—he didn’t see me.”

“I wonder what he’s doing up in the middle of the night?” Arthur says, pulling his bag back out and finishing his packing.

“It looked like he’d been in the bathroom,” Leon replies, leaning against the bed and watching Arthur zip up his satchel.

“Have you eaten?” Arthur asks, unzipping his trousers and tucking his shirt in.

“I had something before I left the ship.”

“Okay, then,” Arthur grabs his jacket and hefts the bag over his shoulder. “We have to get Merlin’s things. I want to show you the hatchling while we’re down there.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” Leon replies, making a face.

“Oh, it’s interesting, all right,” Arthur tells him, peering into the hallway.

They leave the rooms, walking quickly to the stairs. Once on the first floor, Arthur unlocks the door to the main room, heading straight into Merlin’s room and dragging his knap sack out of the closet.

“Looks like everyone else has packed up and headed for the caverns,” Arthur says while he packs. Leon keeps watch at the door and doesn’t comment, although Arthur gets the feeling he’s thinking about Will.

“Okay, ready,” Arthur says. “Come this way.”

When he’s about to open the door to where the insectoid is being held, something makes Arthur look into the small, square window just above eye level. He draws in a breath.

“Shit!” he whispers.

“What is it?” Leon asks, moving closer to Arthur.

“It’s Peter…the Mantoid. He’s in there with it.”

Leon looks over Arthur’s shoulder.

Peter has his hands pressed to the barrier and seems to be communing with the insectoid, which has moved close to the reinforced screen, its antennae waving.

“Oh, my God,” Leon says softly. “Look at that thing.”

“Let’s go,” Arthur says, a shudder running up his back. He’d spent an hour with Peter when he returned to the mansion, making small talk over a glass of wine before making the excuse that he wanted to get some sleep. Peter was all talk about the gala the following night and how magic-users will be arriving in town by the hundreds; it was all Arthur could do to keep his temper and a casual expression on his face.

Once in the car, Leon swallows and asks, “Your father really wants to marry you off to one of them?”

Arthur nods. “That on top of drugging me my entire life has made it a bit difficult to be forgiving toward him.”

“Unbelievable. I’m sorry, Arthur. You must feel very used.”

Arthur sighs, turning out of the estate driveway and onto the main road headed away from town.

“I hate him,” he whispers.

Leon nods, watching Arthur with sympathetic eyes.

“All my life he’s been more of a boss than a father to me, but I’ve respected him because I thought he did his best for the people of Camelot. And for me and Morgana. But he’s lied to us about Morgana, and he’s been persecuting magic-users all along. I would have done anything for him, but he drugged me just to make sure. He probably ran my mother off…maybe her death was even his fault. Without him, I might have known my mother.” Arthur stops, unable to go on as tears begin to well up in his eyes.

“I know he’s done despicable things,” Leon says in his quiet voice, “but I’m sure he loves you, Arthur.”

“I don’t need his kind of love!” Arthur snarls, tears escaping and running unchecked down his cheeks. He continues driving in silence. He suddenly wants to be with Merlin so badly, he hurts. He _needs_ Merlin, like he needs air. The part of Merlin’s magic that remains with him stirs and flutters about, pressing into Arthur’s skin, trying to comfort him. It helps, but it isn’t Merlin himself, and that’s what Arthur needs. He wants Merlin’s patient hands and happy smile. He wants to see the love in Merlin’s eyes and hear the confidence he has in Arthur in Merlin's voice.

Arthur presses a little harder on the accelerator, anxious to get to the caverns.

“Tell me about Iam,” Arthur says after he has himself somewhat under control.

“It’s not ideal,” Leon replies, eyes scanning the darkness outside, “but you’re aware we’re lucky to have found it. It’s fairly close to its parent star, so its tidal forces are very strong---I’m afraid that means that one half of the planet is perpetually light and the other perpetually dark.”

Arthur nods. “Beggars can’t be choosers. As long as it’s habitable. Good work, Leon; you’ve saved us.”

Leon colours and opens his mouth to deny it, but shuts it at Arthur’s reproving look and smiles.

“Learn to accept praise-- right,” Leon says. “I remember you badgering me about that.”

“I never _badger_ , Leon,” Arthur chuckles, turning off the main road and onto the narrow drive surrounded by pines, the pale moon casting sickly shadows over the path ahead.

“So, how’s Merlin?” Leon asks with a smirk.

“He’s the Hekanian prince, come to find out,” Arthur says, not without pride. He can picture Merlin in princely robes, a golden crown upon his head.

“What?” Leon’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Really. Gwaine got curious about Merlin’s heritage—because of his strong magic, I assume. Seems Merlin is in direct line from the crown. Those with full Hekanian blood are all in a dither over him.”

“I suppose they are. Heka hasn’t found their ruler in hundreds of years.”

“Ever since the planet exploded,” Arthur nods. “I can see where it’s important to them. Merlin, however, finds it all very embarrassing. I expect he’d like to escape the attention.”

“There’s no doing that,” Leon says. “He’s responsible for his people.”

“What makes you such an expert?” Arthur asks, frowning.

“I had a boyfriend who was a full-blooded Hekanian. He talked a lot about how his people sought their true ruler and how he or she would bring them all back together. Their dream is to find that ruler, see him or her united, and continue the line.” Leon gives Arthur a look. “Are you ready for that? Because the way I see it, you’re headed for being the Prince’s consort.”

Arthur can feel the flush building, spreading up his neck and into his face.

“Surely not. They don’t even have a planet!”

“We’re about to give them one, Arthur.”

“Fuck.” Arthur swallows. A consort. Arthur Pendragon. United to a magic-user, which actually means the possibility of bearing children, even though he’s a _man!_ This is too much to think about right now. He needs to concentrate on getting the first group of magic-users to Iam.

“How soon can you take off?” he asks Leon, changing the subject.

“Reggie stayed behind to fuel up and get a little sleep so he can take over as soon as we orbit,” Leon replies. “We’re ready when you are.”

“Your ship can only hold around fifty passengers,” Arthur worries. “We already have more than that many in the caverns according to Freya’s last report. I’ll have to take a larger ship from base and pilot it myself. How long does it take to reach Iam?”

“Several days at hypervelocity, with a stop at a way station,” Leon answers. “Fortunately, it’s on the very edge, this side of Pleno galaxy. With the gala tonight, you’ll have to hide the others in the caverns.”

“Father will expect them to be arriving today from all over,” Arthur says. “When they don’t come, he’ll begin looking for them. He’ll release the insectoids. I need pilots for all the ships available…get all the magic-users out of here.”

“I don’t think you have enough pilots on your side, Arthur,” Leon says. “What’s plan B?”

“Stay and fight the insectoids,” Arthur replies, jaw tightening. “We’re almost to the caverns.”

***

“When did I make a wrong turn?” Gwen asks, getting out of her car and looking around.

Thomas gets out of the passenger seat and stretches his legs. “I don’t know,” he replies. “The woods all look the same.”

“They’d been driving for an hour, and it should only take twenty minutes to reach the caverns from the Pendragon mansion.

“Fuck!” Gwen slams her hand onto the hood of her car, tears filling her eyes as all the tension of the past few weeks comes to a head, along with the fact that she’s really begun to feel something for Uther, and it’s probably going to take years of therapy to sort it all out.

“It’s okay,” Thomas tells her, raising his hands in the air. Beams of pale yellow light emanate from his palms.

“What are you doing?” Gwen asks, watching him. Thomas is rather unassuming looking; pretty much the epitome of what a butler should look like. Medium height, medium build, brown hair, hazel eyes, regular features. Gwen thinks his smile is quite nice.

“I’m feeling for the energy of my fellow magic-users,” Thomas says after a moment. “They’re that way.” He points in the opposite direction in which they’d been driving.

Gwen sighs. “Great.” She gazes thoughtfully at Thomas. “Thanks.”

He smiles at her. “No problem.”

Gwen looks at the ground. “I can’t imagine what you think of me.”

“I’m surprised you care,” Thomas says.

“Why?” Gwen asks, surprised. “Because you’re Uther’s butler?”

Thomas shrugs. “Yeah. Always in the background.”

Gwen blushes. “I can’t believe what I’ve done…and with you there. I’m not like that.”

“I liked the way you were,” Thomas says. “Although I wish Uther hadn’t been there for any of it.” He steps forward, tilting her chin upward. “You’re a beautiful woman. Don’t get caught in his web of deceit.”

They stare at one another for a moment before Thomas says, “We’d better get going.”

“Yeah, we’d better,” Gwen says, surprised at the wave of desire she feels for Thomas. She takes a step back and turns to climb into the driver's seat.


	33. Let Loose

“Uther!” Frederick turns Uther over in bed, dislodging the covers. Uther’s face is lax, his limbs floppy. “What’s the matter with him?”

Peter looks over his father’s shoulder. “He’s breathing.”

Frederick leans over and slaps Uther’s face, first gently, and then with more vigour.

“Perhaps he’s a heavy sleeper…it’s four AM, after all,” Peter says. “Although why he went to bed fully clothed, I can’t imagine.”

Frederick lifts the glass from the table next to the bed and sniffs it. “I have a feeling it’s something more nefarious than that. Where’s that butler of his?”

Peter leaves to check Thomas’s rooms. When he gets back, he says, “Gone. Half his closet’s empty, too. This doesn’t look good.” He picks up the pitcher of water and pours it over Uther’s face.

Uther takes a large breath, sputtering and spitting. “W-what? What’s the meaning of…Frederick? Peter? What are you doing in my rooms? What’s going on?”

“You’ve been drugged!” Frederick tells Uther, helping him to sit up.

“Drugged? But how…who?”

“Your butler, perhaps?” Peter suggests. “He’s nowhere to be found.”

“Gwen was here,” Uther whispers, looking sick.

“Ah. Never trust a woman,” Frederick says. “We did away with them a thousand years ago on our planet. Uther, the house is empty. I don’t even know where Cenred and his family went.”

Uther stands up and grabs his coat, wobbling a bit. “I couldn’t find my son earlier.”

“He was here a while ago. We had drinks,” Peter informs him. “But when Father woke me saying everyone seemed to be gone, I checked and Arthur had left. It looked like he’d packed most of his things.”

“Impossible!” Uther says angrily. “Why would he do this? He would never go against my wishes!”

“Calm down,” Frederick lays a hand on Uther’s arm. “It’s obviously the work of a magic-user. And you have us to help you with them. Believe me, we are very anxious to feed our young and get back to Mantodea. It appears the time is at hand.” He looks at his son. “Peter, release the worker. It has a job to do.”

Peter nods and heads for the door, at which he turns and looks at Uther. “Remember—Arthur’s mine. We made a deal.”

Uther nods his head. “Of course. He will be found before this is all over.”

“Peter is very fond of Arthur,” Frederick says, watching Peter go.

“He will not harm him—you gave me your word.”

“Arthur will come to no harm,” Frederick assures him. “He is not the first human who has come to live on our planet. Many of us have a proclivity for the human male, and we treat them well. Arthur will have his own kind to be with, should he feel homesick. When will the other workers be here?”

“I’ve had the eggs gathered and hatched in incubators,” Uther answers, typing into his telroid, “They’re being transported here as we speak.”

“Brilliant,” Frederick breathes. “So many new workers for our planet.” He smiles. “This deal is mutually beneficial, Uther.”

“Not if the magic-users aren’t all eaten!” Uther fumes. “They are supposed to arrive today, but where’s Arthur? Where’s The Elite? What is happening that I don’t know about?”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Frederick says, smiling so widely that a gold tooth is visible in the back of his mouth, “we’ll soon find out.” His phone rings and he quickly answers.

“Yes?” Frederick listens for a moment. “Release them.” He ends the call and looks at Uther. “Peter has discovered two other eggs  brought from Essetir that have recently hatched in their incubators. They were hidden away in a locked room. I’ve had him release them--They’ll grow quickly when they feed.”

“Excellent,” Uther nods, taking out his own mobile. “I’ll contact my men and find out how long it will be before the rest are here.”

***

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Lamia asks. She puts a hand to Merlin’s cheek. “You feel a little warm.”

“That’s because it’s hot as fuck in here,” Merlin grumbles, pushing her hand away. “And I hate small spaces. How many people are there in these caverns, anyway?”

“We just had another large group arrive. There’s probably around two hundred or so,” Lamia says, staring at Merlin with worry in her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Lamia, I’m really very claustrophobic. I have to keep going outside for air. Thanks for worrying, but there’s no need.”

Lamia bites her lip but nods. “Okay. Oh, look! Here’s Arthur. Maybe he’ll perk you up.”

Merlin swings around, eyes searching the crowd of milling people. His magic begins dancing about, already pulling him in the direction of the main corridor. Earlier, Merlin could feel Arthur’s anxiety, and he’s been worried about him, wishing he’d gone with Arthur to the mansion, no matter what Arthur said. Merlin’s headache hasn’t gotten any better, either, and being in this dank, dark cavern with all these people pressing in on him makes Merlin want to scream.

When he finally spots Arthur, Merlin practically runs to him. Arthur seems no less glad to see Merlin, pulling him into an embrace that’s a little worrisome in its intensity.

“Are you okay?” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s ear.

“I am now,” Arthur replies, and Merlin’s heart skips a beat. He tightens his hold on Arthur, nuzzling his neck and breathing in his scent.

“Can we stay together now? Please?”

“I wish I could say yes,” Arthur replies, pulling back, “but it really depends. I may have to pilot a ship.”

“If you do, I’ll be on it,” Merlin states.

Arthur makes a sudden lunge for Merlin’s mouth, capturing it in a kiss. “Don’t think I don’t care about you, Merlin,” He murmurs into Merlin’s mouth. “I really do. When this is all over, and I can think straight, we’ll talk.”

Merlin nods.

“Hey, you two,” Leon interrupts. “Mind telling me where I can find that belligerent arse I’ve grown rather fond of?”

“I hope you’re not referring to me,” Will says, coming up behind Leon. Leon swings around, smiling broadly.

“There you are! Did you miss me?”

“Miss you? Have you been gone?” Will asks.

“You tosser!” Leon laughs, grabbing Will up in a kiss that Will half-heartedly tries to fend off before giving in enthusiastically.

Gwaine moves forward through the crowd. With him is Reggie, Leon’s co-pilot, a short, stocky man with a full beard and merry brown eyes.

“Arthur, I’m glad you’re back. It’s getting crowded in here,” Gwaine says, unbuttoning his shirt collar.

“Fifty people can go with Leon on his ship,” Arthur tells Gwaine without preamble. “Shall we say women and children first? The elderly? Last Freya told me, she’s sorted them out.”

“Sounds good, although there will have to be a few able-bodied men with them. Percy’s been helping her with a list.”

“The Prince and his consort need to go!” A woman nearby who has heard the conversation pushes forward and says emphatically. A couple others repeat it until there’s an entire crowd demanding that Merlin and Arthur be on the first ship to Iam.

“Wait a minute!” Merlin raises his hands. “Please! Listen!” The people quiet down enough to hear. “I’m honoured that you consider me your prince…”

“You _are_ the prince!” a man shouts. “Your heritage has been checked; you’re the Prince of Heka!”

“Okay, okay,” Merlin placates, “Well, then I can’t just leave you all and go to this new planet. I want to stay and see you to safety.”

“And we want our prince safe!” the original woman shouts, and others take up her cry.

“Yes! The prince and his consort must be safe!” a man insists.

Merlin holds his hands up again. “Listen, will you please? Um, it’s true that Arthur and I are…well, together, but he isn’t my consort. We haven’t gotten that far.”

“You’ve branded him with your magic!” someone accuses. “We can see it!”

“Yes, inadvertently…” Merlin looks at Arthur, trying to relate how sorry he is with his eyes.

“Maybe you should go on this trip,” Arthur says to Merlin. “To appease them. Be one of the able-bodied men they need to begin to settle in Iam. Even if I pilot a ship, I have to come back to –take care of my father.”

Merlin doesn’t like the sound of that at all, but the people are agitated, and he feels he has to say something to make them happy, at least for the moment.

“I will go on the first ship,” he says, just wanting to stop the noise, which is like a hammer to his brain.

A cheer goes up.

“What about the consort?” Ezzie asks.

“Arthur has duties here. That’s the way it has to be.” Merlin turns and walks toward the wall where he can sit down. He watches Arthur talk to Freya and Percy, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s face for a moment.

“You look tired,” a voice says, and Merlin startles. He hadn’t realized when Nimueh came to sit beside him.

“I am,” he admits.

“It’s the bond. You haven’t completed it, and your magic is revolting, making you ill. You need to take that final step and bond with your consort before your people, or you’ll just get worse.”

Merlin gives her a look. “What century is this, anyway?” he snorts.

“You are the Prince of Heka, and as such you must follow the ancient laws. Your magic knows this, even if you refuse to see it.” Nimueh’s sapphire eyes bore into him.

Merlin shakes his head. “No. And don’t go filling Arthur’s head with this nonsense, either. I only have a headache.”

“Merlin…”

“I said, no!” Merlin says emphatically, his voice sharp, and Nimueh stops talking. “He’s had enough choices taken away from him.” Merlin’s a little surprised when the sorceress lowers her head and walks away. Merlin’s eyes meet Sabra’s, who’s been standing off to the side. She raises her brows and gives him the thumbs up. He smiles, leaning back against the wall.

A few moments later, Arthur climbs onto a rock and makes an announcement.

“It’s been decided who will go on the first ship to Iam,” he says clearly. “We have no reason to believe there’s any danger until tonight, when the gala is to take place, and we plan for a second ship to leave as soon as possible; but until then, we think it’s wise to get as many of our most vulnerable magic-users out of here. So the list consists mostly of the elderly, the sick, and the young. However, we have made up a team to go along when them to get everyone situated. We have also decided to send the Hekanian prince in order to ensure his safety.” Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s.

A cheer goes up, and Merlin flushes.

As Arthur reads off names and Sefa, Gwaine, Elyan, and Freya begin gathering those magic-users together to prepare to leave, Merlin’s mind zones out. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until someone awakens him by gently shaking his shoulder.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice is soft in his ear, and he feels a warm kiss pressed to his temple.

“Mmm? Arthur?” Merlin turns his head, which hurts.

“Are you okay?” Arthur’s eyes hold concern.

“Fine,” Merlin’s mouth is dry. He sits up. Things are a bit quieter in the cavern, but it’s still stuffy. “I need to get outside. I hate it in here.”

“Come on; I’ll take you. Gwaine’s loading the ship. I’ve sent your bags with him.”

Arthur helps him up, and Merlin thankfully leans on him as they make their way out of the cavern. Merlin receives several concerned looks and more than one loaded one on his way out, but he ignores them.

“Are you getting sick?” Arthur asks him once they’re in the corridor.

“I just need sleep.”

“Well, you’ll be out of here soon.”

Merlin stops. “I don’t like this…going without you, Arthur.”

Arthur looks at him, blue eyes conflicted. “I don’t like it either, Merlin, but I don’t see any way around it.”

“Are you going to kill your father?” Merlin asks softly.

“I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I have to confront him about all this. My main priority is to get these people to safety.”

Merlin nods. Arthur’s mobile beeps, and he looks at the screen.

“They’re ready for you. Leon’s says all systems are go.”

Merlin feels sick as they climb out of the hole and into the open air, his magic rebelling at leaving Arthur. He’s just taken Arthur’s hands in his to say something, anything to ease the pain of the moment, when headlights streak around the corner and a car comes screeching to a halt a few feet away.

“What the fuck?” Arthur says.

“It’s Gwen…” Merlin takes a step forward just as Gwen tumbles out of the driver’s side.

“Merlin! Arthur! Holy shit, they’re coming!” Her eyes are wild.

“What? Who?” Arthur asks. “Who’s coming? Father?”

“The insectoids!”

Merlin suddenly realizes that Uther’s butler is with Gwen when the man gets out of the passenger seat and comes to stand beside her.

“They’ve let them out,” the man says. “They must have discovered something.”

“Are they all coming?” Arthur asks, voice tense.

“Just the three,” Gwen shakes her head. “For now. Get back in the cavern!”

An odd, hair-raising screech sounds across the night, and all four people look at one another, terror in their eyes.

Arthur looks at Merlin. “You have to get on that ship.” He begins pushing him in the direction of the open field. “Now!”


	34. Insectoids

“No, Arthur!” Merlin resists, but Arthur yanks at him, and the horrible screaming noise behind them makes it difficult not to run. “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you here with those things!”

“Merlin, you’re the one in danger! They eat magic-users!” Arthur argues. “Now you’re getting on that ship and letting me finish what I have to do here, or we don’t have a chance in hell of being together.”

The ship is in sight, its light’s almost blinding in the dawn sky. The two men breathe hard as they draw near where Gwaine and Leon stand comparing notes at the base of the boarding steps.

“What is that noise?” Leon asks, looking over their heads at the tree tops, which seem to be swaying as though in a great wind.

“Get in there and ready to go the moment Merlin boards!” Arthur shouts, and Leon turns and mounts the steps.

“Back in the caverns, Gwaine, hurry!” Arthur orders. “The insectoids are loose.”

Gwaine wastes no time with questions.

Merlin turns to Arthur, his eyes pleading. “I know this has been awful for you, Arthur, and I’m sorry. My magic branded you, and I couldn’t control it. I’m not asking for anything except your safety! I’m not asking for you to leave your responsibilities, just let me stay here with you. My place is by your side!”

Merlin suddenly sees the great leader Arthur could be as he gathers his wits about him and addresses Merlin calmly.  “I want you safe, Merlin. And all those people—you’re their prince. They’ve been waiting for you! They’re depending on you.”

Arthur steps closer to Merlin so that he’s inches from Merlin’s face, breath soft of his cheek. “Merlin,” Arthur wraps their fingers together tightly. “We don’t have time for this. I really do have feelings for you, believe me. Deep feelings I haven’t had time to explore. I want to be with you—I just have a lot of unfinished business here I need to get through first. And I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but it’s really you that needs protecting in this case. I don’t believe my father will allow me to be hurt.” He presses a kiss to Merlin’s lips, and Merlin feels as though his heart is being ripped out. He knows that, as much as he doesn’t want to leave Arthur, if he doesn’t do this, he’ll never truly have Arthur’s heart.

“I need…I need to pull my magic out of you, if I can,” Merlin says, resigned. “So you’ll be safe.”

Arthur swallows and nods, stepping back. Merlin closes his eyes and concentrates as his magic fights him, not wanting to leave Arthur. It eventually obeys, the last tendrils clearly visible between them in the bright morning air.

“Go,” Arthur says emphatically.

A screech, louder than the others, fills their ears, and both men flinch. Merlin thinks of the magic-users on the ship. His people. He nods.

“I love you, Arthur.” He turns and runs up the stairs.

***

Arthur races back to the opening of the caverns after seeing the ship off, his stomach dropping the farther away Merlin gets from him, solidifying the feeling he’s long had that it wasn’t Merlin’s magic that made him yearn to be with the sorcerer.

He knows he did the right thing in urging Merlin to go, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Arthur knows he must concentrate on addressing the issues that plague him before he can search his heart and see how he feels about love and Merlin.

At the opening to the cavern, the horrific sight of one of the insectoids—which is huge, so much bigger than it was just hours ago—trying to dig its way in greets Arthur, who immediately pulls out his laser and shoots at it.

The insectoid lets out a scream that reverberates through Arthur’s brain, and turns on him, antenna flailing as it advances.

To say that Arthur feels fear would be a great understatement. Arthur can’t think of words descriptive enough to relay what it feels like to have the great, green _thing_ come at him, jaws clicking. He wants to shout at it that he doesn’t have magic and therefore isn’t a tasty treat, but he doubts it would understand. Turning and running would do no good, as the giant alien is already grasping Arthur in its sticky front legs, one of the protruding spikes brushing his leg, ripping his trousers, lifting him off the ground and high into the air.

Arthur has a sudden, revolting image of his head being eaten off, and he’s glad that Merlin isn’t there to witness it. The giant insect’s strange mouth parts move back and forth like something mechanical. Shouts below him alert Arthur that several people have come out of the cavern and are trying to make the alien drop Arthur.

Magic spells uselessly drop off the insectoid, which pays little attention to anything except for what’s clutched in its forelegs. Arthur wonders if he still has some residual scent of magic on him from Merlin, but then again, what’s taking the alien so long to eat him? If he weren’t so busy trying not to wet himself in fear, he might take a few seconds to realize how truly impotent he feels at this moment, completely at the monster’s mercy, held twenty feet in the air like a toy.

Suddenly, someone runs out into the open, flailing his arms, magic swirling all about him. It’s Thomas, Uther’s butler. What he’s doing is suicide, Arthur thinks—Thomas will have to find cover quickly once the insectoid drops Arthur and turns on him. _If_ it does.

The alien’s slit nostrils widen and it swings his bulbous head, huge eyes focusing on Thomas before letting its thin arms down, dropping Arthur in a heap on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Immediately, hands grip Arthur’s arms and legs and he’s pulled into the hole of the cavern. He can hear the commotion going on outside, screams and screeches straight out of a horror movie. Dirt tumbles in from the hole, and Arthur’s dragged several feet away from it. He wipes it from his eyes and nose and coughs it from his lungs. He blinks, looking around the dim area.

“Are you all right?” It’s Lance, with Freya beside him. Arthur nods.

“One of them is trying to get in at the other side of the cavern,” Sefa runs up to them, eyes frantic and voice barely controlled.

“How did it get so fucking big?” Arthur asks hoarsely.

Sefa wrings her hands. “A group of magic-users arrived just as the insectoids did.” She swallows, leaving the rest unsaid. Arthur knows the aliens grow as they feed, and he suddenly feels sick, heartbeat picking up in fear.

“Not…not the group from Tintagel?” He doesn’t think they’ve had time to get there and back, but he has to be sure.

“No, Arthur,” Freya puts a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t them.”

Lance’s dark eyes are somber. “But Gwaine’s grandmother, and his childhood friend were among them,” he says quietly.

“Oh, God,” Arthur whispers. And his father set this all in motion. Merlin asked Arthur if he was going to kill Uther, and it was no idle question, although Merlin’s tone was full of sympathy, in spite of the fact that Uther took Merlin’s brother from him. Arthur knows he very well may have to do away with his father. God help him; a part of him wants to.

“I have to go find him,” Arthur says. “My father. I have to stop this somehow.”

Gwaine suddenly drops in from the hole, his face stricken.

“What happened?” Arthur asks.

Gwaine shakes his head. “A group of magic-users have led it away from here for the time being. Do you have another ship ready?”

Arthur nods, pulling his telroid from his pocket and typing into it. “It should be ready to go in half an hour. Get the next group prepared to board.” He looks back up at Gwaine. “Thomas…is he…?”

Gwaine shakes his head. “He managed to get away, but he’s with the group that led it from here. We need to get the other one from the back entrance before anyone can board the ship.”

George, who’s been conversing with others in the room, comes forward.

“Freya, I want you on this next ship.”

“No, George, I’m staying. I have to help the others.”

“You’ve helped enough! I want you safe!” George’s jaw is set, lines forming around his mouth.

“He’s right, Freya. You’ve been working at this for a long time,” Arthur tells her. “Go.”

“And I plan to see it through!” Freya argues, eyes alight.

“Sorry, mate,” Arthur tells George, flinching a little as another screech sounds outside. “She’s kind of stubborn.”

“I think you’ve cut your leg,” Sefa, who’s been tending to Arthur, tells him. She moves aside the ripped material of his trousers. “It may need a few stitches. I’ll get Gwen.”

George grabs Freya by the hand, leading her to an empty side corridor.

“Frey, I can’t lose you,” he says. “The thought of one of those monsters eating you…” he shudders, grasping her tail in his hands and pulling it through his fingers over and over again. She begins to purr softly. Putting her hand to his face, she kisses him.

“I love you, George. But I have to do this. I have to save these people. I always finish what I begin.”

He presses his forehead to hers. “I’m staying with you all the way. We’ll do this together.” He gathers her in his arms and holds her tightly, her tail wrapped firmly in his hand.

“Uriah is piloting this next ship to Iam,” Freya says against George’s shirt.

“I didn’t know he’s a pilot,” George says, surprised.

Freya nods. “He served in the war against the last invaders of Gatto.”

George kisses the top of her head. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” He takes her hand. “Freya, when this is over…will you unite with me?”

Freya looks up at him, eyes bright. “Oh, George!” She stands on her toes to kiss him again and again, tail waving behind her.

***

Will’s been working for hours with Percy on the liquid bomb to use against the insectoids, and they don’t even know if it will work. He tries not to think about Leon, and how he looked when Will said goodbye to him again after a hurried fumble in a corner of the cavern.

He definitely doesn’t linger on the memory of Leon buried deep inside him, whispering words so intimate that Will could well believe he was dreaming, the feel of Leon’s hand wrapped around him sending shivers of pleasure up Will’s spine as Leon tortured him with short thrusts.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing!” Percy snaps, and Will blinks.

“Sorry,” he mutters, forcing himself to bring his mind to the task at hand. The sounds of screeching seem to be getting louder outside the cavern, and they make the hairs on the back of Will’s neck stand on end. His hands begin to shake and he puts down the vial he’s holding and cracks his knuckles.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Just…fuck.”

“Yeah,” Percy agrees.

“This better work,” Will says.

“It will,” Percy assures him. “But we don’t have enough for many of them, so it’s only going to buy us some time to get on the ships.”

Arthur limps by, a bandage around his leg, barking orders as they get the next batch of magic-users ready to board.

“Percy, is that going to be ready in time? We have to get these things away from the door so they can board the ship!”

“Do we have anyone willing to distract it so the pilot can get on now?” Gwaine asks.

“Well, it’s not going to be Thomas,” Gwen says emphatically, hovering over the man who is bruised and cut from barely making it back into the caverns from his last foray outside.

Thomas puts a hand on her arm. “I’m okay.”

“Not okay enough to go out there again.” She looks around at the other magic-users in crowd. “One of you others will have to be brave enough.”

“I’ll do it,” Mithian steps up.

“So will I,” says Gilly.

“Great. I may lose two important members of my team!” Gwaine growls.

“You taught us well,” Mithian grins at him.

As everyone readies near the back entrance, Arthur hears his name called from the crowd.

He moves toward the front of the cavern and into the corridor.

“It’s your father, mate,” Lance tells him, winded from running. “He’s outside the front entrance, and he wants to speak with you.”

Gwaine, who’s followed Arthur, grabs his arm. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe I can get him to stop this,” Arthur says, pulling away.

When Arthur pulls himself out of the hole and into fresh morning air, he pauses. There stands his father, looking stern and unmoving with Frederick on one side of him and Peter on the other.

“Arthur,” Peter says, holding out his hand. “There you are.”


	35. Evacuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took me so long.

“Stay away from me!” Arthur barks, scrambling to his feet. Behind him, Gwaine lifts himself out of the hole and stands.

“Arthur, you will do as I say,” Uther commands.

“I don’t think so,” Arthur sneers. “You’re counting on a magic spell to work on me, Father, isn’t that ironic? So magic’s only good enough for you when it works in your favour?”

Uther’s face contorts, rage taking over all other emotions. “You will do as I say regardless, Arthur. You are a Pendragon, and we have made an alliance. You are to be united with Peter.”

Peter steps toward Arthur, but Arthur sidesteps him, and Gwaine tenses, ready to come to Arthur’s aid if needed. Arthur senses that others have exited the cavern behind him, but he doesn’t turn around to look.

“Arthur, it’s time to go,” Uther says. “If you want to save your friends from possible harm in the melee, I suggest you gather them now.” He glances back at Gwaine.

“Does that include my friends with magic?” Arthur asks, standing up straight and looking his father in the eyes.

Uther gives his head a curt shake. “Son, magic is poison. You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen.”

“My mother had magic!” Arthur argues. “You loved her!”

“And she betrayed me!” Uther’s face reddens with anger.

“You cheated on her! With another woman with magic!”

Uther seems stunned that Arthur knows this. His mouth sets in a thin line. “Magic poisoned Carlotta. She would have been better off without it. Arthur, this has already been set in motion. It can’t be stopped.”

“Morgana has magic,” Arthur says, his voice wavering with emotion. “Your own daughter. Do you plan to have her killed, too?”

“I didn’t know anything about that!” Uther argues. “She should have told me sooner.” He sets his jaw and looks at his watch.

“Father,” Arthur steps forward, voice calmer, “you put this into motion; you can stop it.”

“No!” Frederick barks, speaking for the first time. “We have an agreement. Without nourishment, the workers will die. We need them on our planet!”

“These are people we’re talking about!” Arthur shouts. “And if you think I’m going to willingly unite with a Mantoid, you’ve got another think coming!”

A sound like thunder reverberates from beyond the forest to Arthur’s right, and at the same time an explosion goes off behind the caverns. The group dives for cover as sounds of enraged screeching reach a crescendo before fading past the tree line. The thunderous rattling continues, shaking the ground as it gets closer.

“They’re coming,” Uther’s voice is a tight growl in Arthur’s ear as he yanks Arthur to his feet.

“Let go!” Arthur yells. The air is suddenly charged as pandemonium breaks out. Uther’s soldiers, arriving in huge trucks that carry the recently hatched insectoids from Essetir, are felled one after another as magic-users let loose their spells on them. Peter, Frederick, and Uther rush to help release the workers from the backs of the trucks.

“No!” Arthur screams. “You can’t do this!” He throws himself at his father, throwing a punch that knocks Uther to the ground. Arthur jumps on Uther, all his rage and fear spilling out, only to have hands grip his shoulders and pull him away.

Arthur fights, but a cloth with a cloyingly sweet smell covers his nose, the sounds of engines in the distance the last thing he hears before blacking out. His last thought is that at least the second ship made it out of there.

***

  
The good thing about having magic is that coming to a new planet isn’t as awful as it might be. Merlin looks around him and sees elaborate tents popping up all over the place. He knows that in time, with some rest and nourishment, they will create better buildings, but for now the tents offer shelter and are far from sparse.

Being the prince, Merlin gets the largest and most elaborate tent of them all, but he barely notices, he’s so tired. He’s slept most of the journey, but the morning after landing, he still finds himself weak and listless. To his embarrassment, three girls show up to bathe and tend to him. He knows someone did it the night before (although it’s a bit difficult to establish night and day there—they’ve landed on the side of Iam that is perpetually light), but he’d been too out of it to really notice.

He’s eating a bit of bread and cheese someone conjured when Leon enters his tent.

“I’ll be off again as soon as the ship can be thoroughly checked over.” Leon takes a seat beside Merlin and pops a bit of cheese into his mouth.

Leon looks tired, but not exhausted. He stretches out his long legs and leans against the plush, cerulean blue cushions.

“Nice set up,” Leon comments. “ _Prince_ Merlin.” He grins around another piece of cheese.

“Shut up,” Merlin rolls his eyes. “I hope you got some sleep.”

Leon nods. “I did.” He looks more closely at Merlin. “Are all right? You don’t look well.”

“I’m coming down with a cold, I think,” Merlin lies, rubbing his eyes. “Gods, I hope they’re all right.” He sighs, stomach tightening with ever-present worry.

“We’ll just have to believe they are.” Leon stiffens and turns at the sound of sudden commotion outside. “Wonder what’s going on?”

Sabra appears in the open flap of the tent. “The second ship has landed!” She announces excitedly.

Leon and Merlin exchange looks and rush outside.

When they make it to the open area where the ship, twice as large as the one they arrived in, is now cooling down and a crowd of people have gathered, Uriah has disembarked and stands talking with Mordred.

“But I thought Julian was coming on this ship!” Mordred insists, eyes fixed on the vessel as though Julian will appear at any second, even though Uriah has evidently assured Mordred his lover is not on board.

“He would not get on while so many were under attack,” Uriah explains. “He thought he could help.”

“But _she_ obviously didn’t feel the same way!” Mordred lunges at Nimueh, who, having just disembarked, isn’t ready for the onslaught, and tumbles back in surprise and fear. Leon and Merlin jump forward, grabbing onto Mordred’s forearms and pulling him away

“What are you talking about?” Merlin asks. “Stop it, Mordred! I want information!”

Merlin is a little surprised at the weight his order holds, and for the first time he’s glad to be prince.

Mordred pulls back, casting Nimueh malicious glances all the while.

“Uther brought the insectoids,” Uriah answers. “We barely made it out.”

Merlin’s magic stirs restlessly. “Arthur…” he croaks.

“He was arguing with his father, keeping him at bay,” Uriah tells him.

“I’d best be on my way back there,” Leon says, turning on his heel and heading in the direction of his own tent.

“Mordred, make sure everyone is fed and comfortable,” Merlin says, and follows Leon.

“I have to go with you,” Merlin whispers to Leon when he catches up to him at the flap to his tent.

“What?” Leon shakes his head. “Your people want you here.”

“I have to be with Arthur.” Merlin ducks inside the tent and turns to face Leon. “I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to him.”

“I’ll bring him back,” Leon promises.

“What if you can’t?” Merlin worries. “He might need me.”

“Arthur can take care of himself,” Leon assures him.

Merlin rubs his hands over his face in frustration, pacing the floor of the tent several times before sagging tiredly onto a pile of colorful pillows. “I know,” Merlin sighs, putting his head in his hands. “I just want to be near him.”

Leon kneels in front of Merlin, studying him closely. “You’re really pining for him, aren’t you? I mean, physically. It’s making you sick.”

Merlin nods. “I…I don’t want Arthur to know it. It’s a need, and I’m trying to fight it; I am. I’m worried about him. My magic’s going crazy—but the real problem is I’m halfway bonded to Arthur; and everything in me wants to seal the bond. But I’m not going to have Arthur do that just because it’s affecting my health.”

“I’ll bring him back to you, Merlin,” Leon promises.

“Get him to safety,” Merlin amends seriously. “Bring him to me only if that’s what he wants. And don’t tell him about this, Leon. Swear it.”

Leon’s eyes cloud over, and he frowns.

“Leon, you have to promise me you won’t,” Merlin says, grasping Leon’s hand in his. “Arthur’s had too much autonomy taken from him already. I won’t have him uniting with me just to save my life.”

After a moment, Leon nods. “All right. I swear I won’t tell him. But I think Arthur will come to you on his own, Merlin. He loves you.”

Merlin nods, his eyes resigned. “I hope you’re right. But if not, I’ll make it through.” He pats Leon’s hands. “Now get going, and God’s speed.”


	36. Broken

“Morgana, wake up,” Morgause shakes Morgana’s shoulder for the third time, whispering fiercely in her ear. All around them, the magic-users of Tintagel sleep in the underground passage, curled up around one another. Morgana sent Tabitha and a few others ahead on the propulsion scooters on which they made the first half of their journey; she, Morgause, and Elyan remaining behind to guide the refugees.

Morgana whimpers and opens her eyes, blinking in the darkness. Shivering, she huddles into Morgause’s arms.

“Was it one of your dreams?” Morgause asks, and Morgana nods.

“My brother’s in trouble,” Morgana says hoarsely. “Something’s happened. The insectoids are loose, I think. We need to be prepared.” Her fingers grip Morgause’s in the dim pink light of the magic- illuminating ball Morgause created. It hovers just above them, bobbing in the darkness of the passageway.

Morgause shudders. “How can we be prepared for that?”

“My father’s a horrible man,” Morgana whispers, her voice dull.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Morgause replies, kissing the top of Morgana’s head. “Come, let’s wake the others. It’s time to move on.”

***

“Will it hold, do you think?” Lance asks, staring at the barricade the magic-users created to block the underground passageway from the caverns. He can still hear the horrid screeching of the insectoids on the other side, closer now than they’d once been.

“It’s difficult to know,” Julian answers. He’s covered in dirt from head to toe, much like everyone else around him whose been scrambling for the past hour to create something that will hold off the monsters outside. “The wood and rock we used first will work better against them than the magically created material.” He wipes his forehead of the film of cold sweat gathered there.

The last of the refugees, a group of about thirty, stand quietly waiting for instructions. Ever since it became apparent that they would be unable to wait for a ship to return because the insectoids were digging into the cavern, the group had been working to make their escape underground.

Tabitha and two men from Tintagel arrived only moments before, and Lance watches Sefa talking quietly to Tabitha as they share some bread. Gwaine wipes the sweat from his eyes and turns to the tired, frightened group of magic-users and begins instructing them to move forward down the passage.

“We’ll go as quickly as possible, exiting only when it’s safe,” he tells them.

Freya and George lead them away, Julian moving up to join them, and Gwaine and Lance remain at the back. They have their laser guns, but they’ve proved ineffectual against the insectoids.

“What do you think’s happened to Arthur?” Lance asks after a few moments.

“I’m sure his father has him safe somewhere,” Gwaine replies. “Arthur wouldn’t have gone willingly, though.”

“One of the ships will come back for the rest of us,” Lance muses aloud.

“Perhaps they’ll think to go to Tintagel,” Gwaine says. “We’ll try that exit first.”

“Uther may think of it, too,” Lance notes.

Gwaine only nods.

“How many have we lost?” Lance asks after they’ve walked a while in silence, the sound of the others talking quietly in front of them a dull whisper in his ears. Their steps are hurried, their way lit by several magical balls of light floating above them.

“Dozens,” Gwaine replies hoarsely. Lance’s heart clenches. Mithian and Gilly never came back.

Around four hours into the hike, Julian stops the group and everyone sits down, conjuring food and drink and pillows to rest on.

“It seems that the insectoids haven’t immediately broken our barrier,” he tells everyone. “That’s good news. Seeing as there are so few of us left, the Mantoids may give up and go home.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sefa replies, curling up on several pillows. “Tabitha says we can expect to run into Morgana and the others.”

“And you have,” Morgana’s voice suddenly rings out.

Gwaine rises to meet her and the large crowd of magic-users behind her that have rounded the corner of the passage. Tintagel doesn’t hold the greatest amount of magic-users, but it does hold some of the purest blood whose ancestors came directly from Heka after the destruction of their planet and settled there. Lance thinks he can feel the ancient magic churning around them.

“But what’s happened to my brother?” Morgana insists.

“Your father has him, we think,” Gwaine replies.

“You _think_?” Morgana almost shouts, her voice reverberating off the walls.

Morgause grabs her arm. “Shh, Morgana! He will be all right. Uther won’t hurt him.”

“No, he’ll just send him away to live with the monsters,” Morgana sneers, tears in her eyes.

Morgause presses a kiss to Morgana’s temple. “We’ll find him and bring him back.”

“I won’t stop until we do,” Gwaine promises. “The last I saw him, we were there with Uther. There was an attack, and I feel certain Arthur was taken away. I had to run or be trampled by the things…” He looks so contrite, that Morgana reaches out and gently rests her hand on his arm.

“I know you wouldn’t have left him if you could have helped it. I’ve just been so worried, and I’ve been having disturbing dreams.” She sighs and with a wave of her hand, conjures a pillow. “Let’s sit and you can bring us up to speed.”

***

Arthur heaves into the trash bin again before wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve rather than the cloth Peter offers him. It isn’t only the drug that had been forced to Arthur’s face that’s making his stomach churn; in the past hour alone, he’s witnessed a dozen magic-users eaten by insectoids. He wonders if he'll ever be able to keep down food again.

Arthur sits in the plush interior of a ship, with wall-to-wall windows giving him an excellent view of what’s going on outside. The ship has been docked strategically so that not only the entrances to the caverns are visible, but also the landing pads for Arthur’s ships.

Arthur’s heart sank as he watched the people run out as decoys, Mithian and Gilly included, sacrificing themselves to buy the others time. While both ships escaped, Arthur knows there are still more in the caverns, plus the group due to arrive from Tintagel. He also knows that Leon will be coming back for the rest, and Peter and Frederick will be waiting for him.

Arthur watches in horror as the large bug-like aliens begin to burrow into both the front and back entrances to the caverns, his blood running cold at the thought of his friends in peril inside.

“Peter,” Arthur rasps, and the man is instantly by his side. It hasn’t taken Arthur long to figure out that Peter is somewhat enamoured with him—it’s painfully obvious.

“What is it, Arthur?” Peter asks.

“Make them stop. They’ve…eaten…enough. There can’t be too many remaining. Please.”

Peter stares at him, and Arthur turns to fully face the Mantoid prince, his eyes pleading.

“Make them stop. I’m asking you to…please. As…your intended.” The words are like sharp rocks passing out of Arthur’s throat. His sudden yearning for Merlin is so strong, it almost knocks him off his feet.

Peter blinks slowly. “I might be able to persuade my father to load the workers and return to our planet now. They have nourished themselves substantially.” He inches slightly closer to Arthur, and Arthur tenses. He knows what Peter wants—some sign that Arthur means what he says.

Arthur clears his throat. “The ring. Do you still have it?”

Peter smiles, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. He opens it and presents Arthur with the circlet made of gold. Looking closely, Arthur realizes that the gold is interspersed with bits of ivory. Arthur wonders where Peter got such a treasure---there hasn’t been ivory on Earth in hundreds of years. Arthur holds up his hand, willing it not to shake, and Peter slips the ring on Arthur’s finger, bending to kiss it afterward.

Frederick appears, witnessing this, and beams.

“Wonderful! And just when I was considering covering your father in magic and throwing him to the workers, Arthur.”

“Father,” Peter says, eyes never leaving Arthur’s. “We’ve fed our workers enough—let’s gather them up and go home. Uther can deal with the few straggling magic-users that are left. Arthur and I would like to start our life together. Isn’t that right, Arthur?”

Slowly, Arthur nods, a part of him breaking off and floating away.

***

Merlin sits up in bed, body covered in sweat.

Something is very wrong.

“My Prince?” The young man who has been appointed to tend to Merlin’s needs is instantly by his side. “Are you well?”

“Something is happening,” Merlin swings his legs off the bed.

“All is quiet, my Prince,” the boy assures Merlin.

“No…something is wrong with Arthur.”

“The consort?”

“He’s not…” Merlin shakes his head, swallowing. Tears form in his eyes as his magic goes crazy within him. Taking a deep breath, he lies back down, shivering.

The boy, Merlin thinks his name is Veo, begins to wipe Merlin down with a cool, damp cloth.

“You’re feverish, my Prince,” Veo tells him, but his voice seems very far away to Merlin as he sinks into a deep sleep, his magic winding up within him. Suddenly, something snaps into place, and just before darkness takes over, Merlin realizes what it is.

The last tiny vestige of his magic that had clung to Arthur even after Merlin had called it all back.

Their bond has broken.


	37. Mantodea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments! Sorry for that error--kesmith pointed it out. Nimueh can't be in two places at once! Well, maybe she can, but I changed it.  
> Sorry these have been a bit short, but I'm writing them before work.

The continuous buzzing sound in Mantodea makes Arthur nervous. Peter says it’s the sound of strong, healthy citizens, but that doesn’t make Arthur feel any better. About once every three minutes of each day, Arthur glances down at the ring on his finger and wishes it weren’t there. There’s a niggling feeling in his gut that it really should be a ring from a different prince from another planet entirely, but he steadfastly ignores that; thinking about it won’t make things any better.

It’s only at night, when his mind is free to wander, that Arthur thinks of Merlin, and the dreams are so strong and vivid that he awakens hard and sometimes—to his horror—crying.

Now that there’s no particular hurry, Peter wants to hold off their union until the full moon, for reasons Arthur didn’t even ask for. The ways of the Mantoids are strange and more than a bit revolting. Peter has assured Arthur that he never has to see him in his true form, and without Merlin’s magic, Arthur hasn’t had a glimpse of it. But it lives in his memory, and every time Peter gets close to Arthur, Arthur sees it in his mind’s eye. It makes him jump, and not at all receptive to his intended’s touch, and that makes Peter angry.

“You’re mine, Arthur, and you’d better get used to that!” Peter storms on their third day on the planet. Arthur has recently awoken from a particularly vivid dream of Merlin pinning him to a tree and thrusting into him so hard, Arthur felt owned; it was a wonderful feeling. When Peter abuptly snapped Arthur out of the dream by entering his room, Arthur wasn't happy with him.

He’s even less happy now with Peter making advances on him while Arthur tries to drink his coffee. There would be no coffee on Mantodea if the few humans who lived there didn’t ask for it, and Arthur’s glad for it; it gives him a small taste of home. Arthur has barely met the other humans; Peter seems reluctant to share his intended with anyone just yet.

“Peter, we barely know one another, and I’m not accustomed to my surroundings. It’s very…different here,” Arthur tries to placate the Mantoid prince.

That’s an understatement. Sometimes Arthur feels like he’s been shrunk and now lives with the insects. The vegetation is high and grass-like, and the insectoid workers make huge piles of dirt which they form into buildings with a combination of their urine and spit. They constantly roam the area, although they completely ignore Arthur now that he no longer retains any vestige of Merlin’s magic.

Arthur misses Merlin’s magic. He misses Merlin. He wonders how he’s doing on Iam—if he’s found a new man to be his consort. The thought sends such a violent flash of jealously through Arthur, he flushes and clenches his fists, stomach roiling painfully.

“You’re going to have to give me something to do,” he tells Peter at the end of the third day. “I’ll go crazy just sitting here.”

“Nonsense,” Peter answers. “The prince’s consort doesn’t do actual work.”

“What does he do, then?” Arthur asks irritably.

“One thing you will do is give me a child,” Peter smiles.

“What?” Arthur’s mouth drops open. “I can’t…there’s no magic here. I can’t have your child!”

“No,” Peter shakes his head slowly, smile never leaving his face, “but I can have yours. Mantoids are built to have children, and we can have them with humans, which is why a few of us have human partners. So you will impregnate me with our offspring…those next in line to rule our great planet. That’s a very important task right there, Arthur, and you should feel privileged to have been chosen. On that topic, our union will take place in thirteen days, and there are things to do.”

Peter calls in one of his servants, a tall, thin young man with blond hair and a close beard.

“This is Siam. He’s going to help prepare you for our union.” Before Arthur can take another breath, Peter presses a kiss to his lips and leaves the royal house that Arthur shares with the prince and his father.

Siam nods deferentially to Arthur and begins taking things out of a basket he’s holding. “I’ll prepare your bath, Lux,” he says.

 _Lux._ Arthur’s been called that before by the few Mantoids he’s encountered, but doesn’t know what it means. He asks Siam now.

“It is our word for…” Siam searches his mind for the appropriate human term. “Honorable impregnator of our prince, I suppose you would say.”

Arthur turns his back and flinches. He undresses while Siam prepares the bath, a steamy tub full of hot water with a spicy oil added that calms Arthur’s nerves to where he almost doesn’t mind the incessant buzzing coming from outside.

Siam feeds Arthur some seed from a fruit and a cool drink from its juices, assuring him of the health benefits. “This will make you strong and healthy. You will sire many sons.”

Arthur doesn’t even want to think about this. He does as he’s bidden and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the pillow.

A moment later, he hears a small splash and opens his eyes to find Siam in the tub with him, wearing only his thin underclothing. When Siam reaches over with the bar of fragrant soap and a cloth, Arthur jumps.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Bathing you, Lux,” Siam answers calmly, his pale eyes lowered.

“I can bathe myself!” Arthur tries to take the cloth from the boy, but Siam flattens out his mouth stubbornly.

“This is my duty, Lux.” He begins soaping Arthur all over, and Arthur finally gives in to it, allowing Siam to lift Arthur’s arms and rub the soapy, fragrant cloth underneath them, glide it over his chest and back until Arthur’s relaxed and almost asleep. Arthur’s leg has healed where the worker insectoid scratched it, but it still aches a little. The hot water loosens his muscles and dulls that ache. Arthur finds that he enjoys it when Siam washes his feet, massaging them gently.

Arthur’s eyes pop open, however, when Siam reaches Arthur’s more private parts and the young man slides in to sit behind Arthur, pulling Arthur back to recline against his chest. Arthur’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Siam…”

“This is our way, Lux,” Siam says softly into Arthur’s ear.  “I am to prepare you for your union. You are to build up your seed. Close your eyes and think of your intended.”

Thinking of Peter is only going to wilt Arthur’s burgeoning erection. Although Arthur balks at the fact that a young man barely out of his teens is stropping Arthur’s cock in the bath, he can’t deny that after several nights of dreaming of Merlin, it’s a welcome release. He closes his eyes and  pictures Merlin’s face the way it looks when he comes-- blue eyes widening before closing tightly, hands pulling Arthur so he’s speared deeper-- and Arthur moans, pushing his hips upward, sounds of water rippling around him.

It isn’t long before he spills out into the water with a hoarse cry. Siam immediately moves out from under Arthur, leaving him to recover in peace before coming back later to dry him off and give him a pair of soft green pants and a matching tunic.

Arthur’s barely got the latter over his head when Peter opens the door, foregoing his usual polite knock. There’s a scowl on his face.

Arthur smooths down the tunic and looks at him. “What is it?”

Peter takes a moment to let his eyes roam over his intended, expression softening. “You look wonderful, my love,” he says warmly. He steps forward, pulling Arthur into his arms. Arthur has to keep reminding himself that he agreed to this; it was his choice in order to save his friends. He stands a little less rigidly than normal after his earlier intense orgasm while Peter runs his mouth over the soft, sensitive parts of Arthur’s neck.

After a moment, Peter pulls back. “You have a visitor,” he sighs.

“What?” Arthur asks, surprised. “Who is it?” He wonders if it’s his father, and he really hopes it isn’t. Who else could it possibly be?

“It’s that Leon fellow-- a good friend of yours, I believe,” Peter answers. “I wasn’t going to allow you to see him, especially since he piloted food that rightfully belonged to my workers off Earth, but he’s adamant. He has that big-mouthed friend with him who’s causing quite a ruckus, too. It’d be easy just to kill them, but we’ve always maintained a good relationship with the humans, and --more importantly-- I don’t want to upset you.”

Excitement stirs in Arthur’s belly, and he doesn’t find it difficult to give Peter a genuine smile. Peter’s so taken aback by it, he allows Arthur the use of his private office to meet with Leon and his companion, who turns out to be Will.

Leon grabs Arthur up in a tight hug, lifting his friend off his feet.

“Thank God,” he mutters in Arthur’s ear, voice breaking a little.

“Don’t expect that kind of welcome from me,” Will tells Arthur, when the two friends finally part, “although I’m glad to see you haven’t been served up for dinner here.”

“They don’t eat non-magic-users,” Arthur says, slapping Will on the back, he’s so glad to see him.

“Last I heard, you had some of Merlin’s magic,” Will points out, eyeing Arthur speculatively.

The smile melts from Arthur’s face. “We had to dissolve that. I am to live here now.”

“What?” Leon asks, horrified. “Arthur, we’re here to take you to Iam.”

“I can’t leave,” Arthur says resignedly. “It was the only way to get them to stop.”

“Arthur!” Leon is so horrified, Arthur can’t bear to look at him.

“How did you get out, Will?” Arthur asks. “And did you see Morgana?”

“Fuck me, no. I was taking a leak just outside the caverns and had to hide. Pretty soon, they had me blocked out of the place. It wasn’t long, though, until your buggy boyfriend called off the dogs. Leon arrived soon after you left.”

“I was just in time, then,” Arthur says, turning to Leon. “They were going to kill you, too, Leon.”

Leon’s eyes are sad. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”


	38. Picking up the Pieces

Thomas blinks his eyes open, the pale sunlight filtering through the window casting light on a sight so arousing, he thinks for a moment he’s dreaming.

Gwen kneels nude in a porcelain tub, water trickling over her toffee-coloured skin, heavy breasts topped with rosy nipples drawn to puckers by the chilled air. She pulls her luxurious curtain of curly hair up off her shoulders and back, twisting it into a knot, and Thomas watches, mesmerized, as those beautiful breasts lift and sway with the action.

When they reached Tintagel the night before, Thomas had been exhausted. The trip had taken much longer than it should have due to the unexpected death of one of the travelers from an infected insectoid scratch. Those from Tintagel, direct descendants from Heka, insisted upon the required nine-day vigil over the magically bound body before continuing on their journey. After that it was slow going, since magic-users consider it disrespectful to float a dead body in the air rather than carry it by hand.

Thomas glances about him, remembering now that those who didn’t live in Tintagel had been invited into someone’s home and given a room to sleep in, but Thomas doesn’t remember undressing or even his head hitting the pillow. He stirs, and the movement attracts Gwen, who splashes in the water, ducking down to cover herself.

“You’re awake,” she says unnecessarily, and blushes.

“I don’t think there’s any need to be modest,” Thomas reminds her, and her blush deepens. He sits up, the ochre-coloured sheets slipping to his waist, and stretches. He hears the trickling of water, and glances over to see that Gwen has taken up the cloth again and resumed washing, her back slightly to him.

“Was it terrible working for Uther?” Gwen asks after a moment.

Thomas looks at her, a little shocked.

“Perhaps you forget what my duties were,” he says a little stiltedly, and he’s rewarded with the blush spreading down her neck. Swinging his legs off the bed, Thomas stands and walks over to the tub, unable not to notice Gwen’s eyes drifting downward to where his rather impressive package dangles between his legs, balls heavy and morning erection even stiffer at the sight of her nudity.

“I did forget for a moment,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. I just…sometimes I thought I could see something redeemable in him.”

“So it wasn’t all an act, then?” he asks. He’d wondered about that many times.

She shakes her head. “No. I did care. A bit.”

Thomas lifts a leg and climbs into the tub, settling own across from Gwen. She stiffens, drawing away.

“Just because…just because of what I had to do…that doesn’t mean I, well. I’m not to be had whenever the desire arises.”

Thomas can’t help but smile; her stuttering is charming. This seems to irritate Gwen, for she sits up straight and frowns, her lovely breasts jutting out. When his eyes roam to them, she blushes furiously, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I meant what I said when I told Uther I liked to watch your breasts, Gwen,” Thomas tells her. “They are absolutely gorgeous. And I really did wank to the thought of them--several times.” He smiles a little wolfishly.

Gwen looks away, biting her lip.

Thomas laughs, snags the cloth from her, and begins to wash.

“Have you seen anyone yet this morning?” he asks conversationally.

“Just Sefa. She knocked on the door and told me she’s going downstairs to make some tea.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Gwen looks at him, large brown eyes curious and a little worried. “Do you think the insectoids are still out there somewhere?”

“I have a feeling they aren’t, or we would have seen them,” Thomas replies. “The worst is over.” He finishes with the cloth and wrings it out before giving her a serious look. “Gwen. Uther won’t let go of his child easily.”

Gwen’s face falls, and she covers it with her hands. “It may not be his.”

Thomas digests this. “That may be for the best.”

“I could tell him I was wrong.”

Gwen gets to her feet, water cascading off her body, and steps out of the tub. Thomas watches as she dries herself with a towel and pulls on some borrowed clothes.

“He won’t believe it. He tested you.”

Gwen swings around. “What?”

“While you were sleeping.”

She takes a minute to absorb this information before bending down to pull on some socks and her trainers.

“There are clothes that should fit you over there,” Gwen points to the window seat. “I’m going down for tea.” She’s left the room before Thomas can stand.

***

"Was it all a horrible dream?” Lance asks.

Gwaine stills his finger, which has just breached Lance’s opening. “Exactly to what are we referring?”

Lance laughs and leans back for a kiss, his tongue entering Gwaine’s mouth. Slowly, every part of him melts like butter in a hot skillet, and Gwaine’s finger begins a leisurely glide, slicked by saliva from Gwaine’s mouth.

Lance’s cock stands at full attention, the tip leaking on his flat belly. His attraction to the man in bed with him is so strong, it’s intoxicating, and Lance frankly can’t believe he’s worked beside Gwaine for so long and not noticed him physically. He can feel the silky smooth skin of Gwaine’s cock against his arse cheek, and Lance wants the thickness of it inside him so badly, he’s trembling with need.

“Oh, shit, fuck me, please, Gwaine…” he breathes, and Gwaine draws in a breath, inserting another finger beside the first. It burns, but Lance welcomes it, arching and crying out.

“You’re so beautiful,” Gwaine whispers in Lance’s ear, making Lance impossibly harder. “You don’t have to beg. I’ll give you what you want.”

“Now, please…” Lance groans.

Gwaine’s fingers withdraw, and there’s some fumbling behind him. Gwaine gives Lance his palm to lick, which Lance does with such lustful abandon, Gwaine groans and begins humping against Lance’s hip.

A moment later, and Gwaine’s cock, barely slickened with Lance’s spit and Gwaine’s pre-cum, slides inside Lance’s tight hole. Lance moans in half-pain, half-pleasure, one hand grasping Gwaine’s hip, the other the sheet, his knee bent and foot high in the air.

“Fuck, yeah,” Gwaine huffs, beginning to thrust. Lance is so gone, he closes his eyes and just allows himself to _feel_. Every push into him makes the tip of Lance’s dick hit his abs and just that little movement feels so fucking good coupled with Gwaine’s cockhead hitting the sensitive spot inside him. Pleasure spirals up from the base of Lance’s spine, turning his limbs to a tingling mass. His leg begins to shake and then jerk in the air.

“G-Gwaine,” he croaks, toes flexing, and Gwaine thrusts harder, loud squelching noises filling the room along with their labored breathing. Lance comes like a rocket, arching his back and crying out. Gwaine’s arm around Lance’s waist keeps Lance from dislodging him, and three more hard thrusts have Gwaine coming, his mouth buried in Lance’s sweating neck.

Gwen planned on going downstairs, but she takes a sudden detour, thinking about the baby within her and the fact that it could very well belong to Lance. She’s pretty sure she knows which room Lance took the night before, and pauses in surprise when she hears the sounds coming from within. Pushing the door open just enough to see inside, Gwen’s mouth forms an O at the sight of Gwaine thrusting into Lance. From this angle, she has the perfect view of Gwaine’s large cock spreading Lance’s hole wide open.

When she slept with him, Gwen noticed that Lance wasn’t particularly impressively endowed, but now, seeing his prick engorged and bouncing as Gwaine pounds into him, his olive skin flushed and covered in a dew of sweat, he looks amazingly sexy. His balls are tight and his slightly smaller than average penis well-shaped and leaking. The two men are so into what they’re doing, Gwen thinks she could walk into the room and sit on the bed unnoticed. A rush of wetness in her panties reminds her of her act of voyeurism, and she quietly closes the door just as enthusiastic sounds of release meet her ears.

***

“Do you think they’ve made it back to Tintagel yet?” Arthur asks Leon after he dismisses the servant who brought them tea.

“They had to have by now,” Leon replies, picking up the small cup. “It’s been weeks.”

Arthur glances up from his tea. “Weeks? It’s only been a few days.”

Leon looks at Will and carefully places his cup in its saucer. “Arthur, you’re in Clox galaxy, remember? It takes almost two weeks to travel here.”

Arthur sits, stunned. He hadn’t thought about that. He must have been out of it the entire trip, somehow.

“They drugged me,” he says. “I hadn’t given it a thought.”

Will scowls. “How you can feel you have to keep your word to these barbarians, is beyond me.”

Arthur looks at him. “Even if I didn’t feel this way, they would seek their revenge on those I love.”

“Do they know where they are?” Leon asks.

“They’d find out. I can’t take the risk.” Arthur stares at his hands.

“What will happen to you?” Leon asks quietly after a long moment of the three sitting in uncomfortable silence.

Arthur sighs. “I will sire dozens of children to the Mantoid prince.” He shudders and meets Leon’s eyes. “How is Merlin?”

Leon’s eyes slide away, and Arthur’s instantly on alert. “Leon?” His voice hardens. “Tell me!”

“I don’t actually know, Arthur, because I haven’t seen him in weeks. But when I left Iam, he wasn’t well.”

Arthur curses, his stomach tightening. “I knew it. He looked awful before he left Earth. What’s the matter with him?”

When Leon doesn’t immediately answer, Will leans forward. “Well, I haven’t promised anyone anything. Merlin was dying because you hadn’t sealed your bond.”

“ _What_?” Arthur stands, spilling his tea. The cup rolls under the table. His heart hurts--physically aches—so that he brings his right hand up and places it over the spot where it pounds in his chest. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Merlin didn’t want you to feel obligated,” Leon says, “particularly since all your choices have been taken from you over the years. But honestly, there’s been no opportunity to tell you anyway.”

Arthur feels the blood draining from his face and has to sit down again. “Do you think he’s…” He can’t finish the sentence.

“The breaking of your bond might have saved him,” Leon replies hopefully.

“Or it might have finished him off,” Will provides bluntly.


	39. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. A lot of unexpected things are going on.

Gwen is surprised to find several people downstairs when she arrives, one of them Uriah. Thomas has made it down before her, and Gwen wonders how long she stood watching Gwaine and Lance in bed.

He sends her a quizzical look before turning to refill his coffee cup. He’s dressed in the casual slacks and tunic lent to him by a Tintagel resident, and Gwen has the passing thought that the shade of brown does nice things for his complexion.

Mentally shaking herself, she says, “Uriah, when did you get here?”

“Early this morning,” he answers, draining his cup of coffee and waiting while Sefa refills it. He appears tired. “In Tintagel, that is. I arrived on Earth the day before yesterday.”

At the surprised looks he gets, Uriah continues, “I’ve been at _Pendragon._ No sign of Uther, before you ask. But I went to find the head of Arthur’s unit. He tells me that Arthur’s been taken to the Clox galaxy…Mantodea.”

Morgana, who’s been sitting silently in the corner with Morgause, nursing her cup of coffee, makes a strangled sound.

Gwen speaks for her. “So he’s to be united to that… _thing_.”

“Evidently he did it in exchange for your lives,” Uriah tells them, and Gwen watches Morgana turn her head into Morgause’s neck.

“Shhh, Morgana, we’ll get him back,” Morgause says, her eyes meeting Uriah’s. “Won’t we?”

“If Arthur made an agreement, he’ll never break it,” Morgana says plaintively. Coffee forgotten, the cup rolls from her lap and spills.

Sefa rushes to help mop it up.

“Arthur’s men are in agreement—we will go and get him from that place, if we have to knock him out and carry him to do so,” Uriah tells them. “I’m here to see how many of you are with me on this. The rest of you can be transported to Iam today.”

“I’m in,” Gwen says immediately, and Thomas shoots her a look. She knows what he’s thinking—the baby. She resolutely doesn’t look at him.

“I’m sure Gwaine and Lance will want to go,” she continues. “They’re upstairs.” She can feel her face colouring, the memory of the two men together still quite vivid in her mind.

“I’m in,” Percy says.

“Same,” Daegal replies. “Vivian and Elyan aren’t up yet, but I feel certain they’ll want to be a part of it.”

Percy nods in agreement.

“I’m definitely going,” Morgana says firmly.

“As am I,” Morgause adds.

“How will we fight them, though?” Gwen asks Uriah. “And is it wise for magic-users to go?”

Morgana makes a noise of protestation, and Uriah quickly reassures her.

“It is certainly more dangerous for those with magic, but I’m not going to stop them from coming.”

Morgana visibly relaxes into the crook of Morgause’s arm.

Tabitha, who has appeared in the doorway, speaks up. “As much as I am willing to help you, I’m afraid I must be reunited with Nimueh. I can feel that my absence is putting a strain on her magic.”

“Understandable,” Percy tells her. Spotting Lamia just behind Tabitha, Percy stands and walks into the hallway, pulling her aside. “Lamia, I don’t want you to go. It’s too dangerous, and you’ve been through enough.”

Lamia looks down. “I feel cowardly saying this, but I don’t want to go.” She raises her eyes to meet Percy’s. “I have friends I’m eager to check on, and I’m not much of a fighter, Percy.”

He smiles down at her, lifting a lock of her brown hair and fingering it before letting it fall again.

“We’re in agreement, then.” He smiles before kissing her gently on the forehead. Their long-ago affair has turned into a friendship, in spite of their efforts to rekindle what they once had. He can see it in her eyes, and he feels the same.

The front door opens and Freya and George appear, the newly-risen sun glaring behind their heads.

Uriah walks through the kitchen doorway.

“They’ve landed,” George tells them.

“Who?” Gwen asks, scooting around Uriah.

Freya shuts the door. “We went to Uriah’s ship to try to make contact with a group we’ve heard tell of that is specially equipped to deal with situations like these.”

“Where did you find them?” Uriah asks.

“They’re on Tantra, taking a vacation of sorts. I spoke with the leader of the group—her name’s Elena. She’s willing to take this on. She wants us to meet them on Tantra, which happens to be between here and Mantodea. We’ll work things out there.”

There are several meaningful looks between the men present at the mention of Tantra, and Gwen wonders what that’s about.

“I’ll begin making preparations immediately,” Uriah says, heading out the door.

***

“This incessant buzzing is driving me mad,” Will complains, staring out the window of the room Peter provided for them. “I hate it here. How can Arthur stand it?”

“I think he barely is standing it,” Leon answers, removing his shirt and tossing it over a chair. “Good luck on convincing him to go back on his word, though.”

“Stupid prat,” Will mutters, stretching out his legs. He’s wearing only a pair of boxer briefs; it’s humid as hell on Mantodea. “He’s worried about Merlin, though—I can tell.”

Leon nods, slipping out of his trousers.  Striding over to a basin of water left by a servant on the dresser, he begins to wash off. Will openly admires Leon’s form, leaning back against the wall.

“You notice the odd smell around here?” he says after a moment, watching with interest as Leon slips his long legs out of black briefs. Leon’s arse is tight, high, and muscular, and Will’s cock stirs.

“That would be the urine,” Leon says.

“Huh?” Will blinks.

Leon turns to look at him, and Will’s momentarily side-tracked by the sight of his long cock and heavy sac set amidst copper curls.

“The urine,” Leon says, moving to stand by the bed. “The insectoids build the houses out of dirt, using their saliva and urine to hold it together. Didn’t you read about them?”

Will jerks away from the wall he’s been leaning against, a look of revulsion on his face. “Hell, no. Ugh!” The movement brings him closer to where Leon’s standing, and Will turns his head, letting his breath ghost over Leon’s lengthening cock. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” He looks up at Leon from beneath his lashes, giving a little smirk.

Leon’s breathing picks up, and Will puts out his tongue to taste him, wrapping his hands around Leon’s strong thighs.

“Fuck, Will,” Leon gasps, as Will licks the length of him before taking one of Leon’s nuts into his mouth and sucking gently. He grabs onto Will’s head, and Will lets out a long, delicious moan that he knows reverberates through Leon’s balls and up his spine.

“Fuck!” Leon swears. “You’re ridiculously good at this, you know that?” His voice is shaky, and Will replies by taking Leon’s cock into his mouth and sucking enthusiastically.

A good twenty minutes later, Leon kneels between Will’s spread thighs, happily returning the favour with two fingers crooked inside Will for good measure, when Arthur knocks on the door, calling to Leon.

“Fuck! The git has terrible timing,” Will groans, bringing his head up from where it’d been thrown back in ecstasy.  He can feel his orgasm building and his nuts tightening. “Please don’t stop… JUST A MINUTE!” he yells. Leon grins around Will’s girth. “Shut it, arse,” Will breathes, arching his back.

The fingers speed up and the suction strengthens. Will’s knees begin to shake, and that feeling of champagne bubbles bursting inside him, only much _much_ better, takes over. He groans, the sensation of his seed spilling forth into Leon’s mouth making him come even harder.

Will’s elbows cave and he sinks onto the mattress. He feels something hastily thrown over him before hearing the door opening and Leon inviting Arthur inside.

“Gods, sorry,” Arthur murmurs. Will opens an eye and gives him the best glare he can manage at that moment.

“What is it, Arthur?” Leon asks calmly, and Arthur turns to him.

“Er, you’ve got a bit of…” Arthur brushes at his own lip, and Leon quickly wipes his mouth on his arm.

“Listen, I can’t just sit here wondering if Merlin’s dying. I have to go to him.”

“You want to leave here?” Leon asks, surprised.

“I’ll come back, but if Merlin’s seriously ill…maybe there’s something I can do about it.”

“You think that overgrown grasshopper’s going to let you do that?” Will asks, rising to his elbows. Leon’s T-shirt covers Will’s privates, and Leon’s got a towel held up to his. Arthur appears very conscious of what he walked in on, his eyes avoiding landing on either one of them for very long.

“I’ll talk to him. He has my word, after all,” Arthur says. “I just wanted to let you know I intend to be on that ship with you tomorrow.” He gives them a nod and leaves.

Leon drops the towel and walks back to Will, crawling over him to kiss him hungrily.

“This is good news,” he says after a moment.

Will scoots up on the bed so he can properly cradle Leon between his thighs.

“We’ll see. I have my doubts that the Mantoid prince will allow his intended consort to go.”

Leon nibbles at Will’s collarbone and then lower, taking the small, brown nub of Will’s nipple between his teeth. Will arches off the bed and groans.

“Are you going to fuck me, or just tease me to death?” he asks breathlessly after a moment.

“Oh, I’m going to fuck you,” Leon says. “Now turn over so I can see that cute, freckled bottom of yours that’s been haunting my dreams.”

Will gives Leon a dirty look, but complies, flipping over onto his stomach.

“Up on your knees,” Leon directs, voice hoarse. Will pushes up on the mattress, spreading his knees wide.

When Will feels Leon’s teeth sink into the fleshy cheek of his arse, he cries out. “Hey! That’s going to leave a mark!”

“Good,” Leon says before biting the other cheek just as hard.

“Bloody hell!” Will gasps, but he’s getting hard again.

Leon licks the places he bit before sprinkling kisses all around Will’s rump, his hand moving down to stroke Will’s dangling bits.

“Holy shit,” Will moans, limbs trembling. And then he feels Leon’s tongue on him and loses all train of thought—everything centers around the little licks and nibbles slowly traveling up his taint toward his hole.

“I used the grape lube,” Leon says after a moment, his breath cool on Will’s damp skin. He swirls his tongue around Will’s hole, and, no longer able to control himself, Will lets out a sob.

Leon grabs hold of Will’s arse cheeks and spreads them wide open, pushing his tongue deep inside and wiggling it before making it into a point and fucking him with it.

Will cries out hoarsely, moving forward on the bed. Leon grabs Will’s legs, pulling him back, continuing to feast on him.

When Will truly can’t stand it anymore—when the very touch of Leon’s beard near his nuts makes him dribble cum on the sheets, he gives up and begs.

“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, Leon…fuck me! Please, please, just do it already.”

Leon gives Will’s hole one more lick and suck before getting up on his knees.

“Here it comes,” he says, voice trembling as he slowly pushes his engorged cock inside, and Will comes like a geyser, shooting all over his chin, neck,  and the bed beneath him.

“Ahhh,” Leon sighs when he’s fully seated. “Nowhere I’d rather be.” He begins to move, and Will buries his face in the pillow, gasping with every thrust. When Leon’s dick hits Will’s prostate, he shouts, body jerking.

Leon grasps Will around the waist, pulling him up and flush against his body. “Shh, do you want them to come in here?” He chuckles into Will’s ear, hands moving greedily over Will’s chest and belly.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Will rasps, pushing back onto Leon and smiling with triumph when he hears the reactionary gasp in his ear. He does it again and again until, with a deep growl, Leon pushes Will down onto the mattress and begins to frantically drill him.

“Yeah, so good…love your arse,” Leon breathes, loud squelching noises filling the room.

Will lies, legs spread like a frog’s, taking it, body moving against the bed, the hair on Leon’s legs tickling the insides’ of Will’s thighs as he moves.

With a great gasp and broken cry, Leon shudders and comes. He eases out of Will and lies down beside him, moving his fingers along Will’s spine and over the arch of his arse, down his crack to play in the mess dribbling out of Will’s body.

Leon kisses Will’s temple as he plays, smoothing the combination of cum and lube around Will’s skin, pushing some back into his hole. “That was…amazing,” Leon says contentedly.

Will can only nod. He hasn’t the energy to do anything else. He falls asleep with Leon’s fingers inside him.


	40. Beginning Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty short--sorry about that. RL issues going on. I feel badly I'm not updating as much as I usually do. :( Thanks to those who are still reading!

The first fledgling city in Iam, named _Merlin_ after its prince, begins to take shape. Merlin isn’t particularly comfortable having the city named after him, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Besides, he reflects as he looks out upon it from the palace his people have constructed for him, it’s really the least of his discomforts lately.

Although Merlin’s body has recovered from the exhaustion he suffered after his bond with Arthur was unexpectantly ripped away from him, his soul and his heart have some ways to go. And already his people are parading possible consorts in front of him, telling him that he needs to bond in order to fully heal. Merlin thinks it’s probably true, but he balks at the thought. Besides, it’s not as though he can give them an heir with anyone but Arthur; without the maddening blond around, Merlin’s libido has returned to its former disinterested state.

Merlin’s wondered many times about Arthur--at first he worried that the tearing away of their bond had been due to Arthur’s death, although he suspects that would have killed Merlin, too. But the arrival of the the magic-users from Tintagel supplied him with the rest of the story.

Arthur had sacrificed his future for his friends.

Somehow that didn’t surprise Merlin very much, and it being one of the few decisions Arthur’s actually been able to make on his own, Merlin has to respect it. Still, he can’t stop thinking of Arthur.

He can’t stop loving him.

One morning Sabra comes to Merlin where he’s sitting in the garden he’s newly constructed with his magic. The odd animal life on the planet keeps him entertained, and he’s made a little bathing well for the tiny bird-like creatures that seem to be attracted to the yellow flowers that abundantly grow all over Iam. He’s taken to hiding there rather than face the constant suitors coming to call.

“Merlin, it’s good to see you looking so well,” Sabra says, hugging him.

“I really am feeling better,” he tells her.

“There’s no light in your eyes, though,” she notes, squeezing his hand.

He shrugs, turning away, eyes suddenly misty.

“Merlin, I have someone I want you to meet,” Sabra tells him.

Merlin looks over his shoulder. “Who?”

“Jacob!” Sabra calls, and a tall, dark-haired, young man walks through the gate, smiling shyly. He bows politely to Merlin.

“My prince,” he says, green eyes twinkling even as his cheeks colour.

“Nice to meet you,” Merlin says, giving Sabra a questioning glance.

“Jacob is going to be your companion. He’s well-learned in most magic, but perhaps you can teach him a bit about the way you use it with the animal life?” Sabra suggests.

This is how Merlin ends up becoming friends with Jacob, who is easy to get along with and quite funny. Merlin hasn’t realized how very lonely he’s become until he has someone to spend time with. He and Jacob share a love for the small creatures in the garden, as well as reading, and Merlin grows to look forward to their afternoons together. He feels his magic grudgingly responding to the young man after lying sulkingly dormant since the breaking of the bond with Arthur. As each day passes, it tentatively emerges to nudge at Jacob’s magic, and soon begins acting somewhat like its old self.

Merlin isn’t prepared, however, for the kiss Jacob gives him one evening after supper. He stares wide-eyed at the young man, mouth agape.

“What was that?”

“It was a kiss, Merlin,” Jacob laughs. “Haven’t you ever had one before?”

Merlin licks his lips, the taste of the other man’s mouth foreign on Merlin’s tongue. “I—yes, of course. I hadn’t expected it, that’s all.”

Jacob reaches out and grasps Merlin’s hand, long fingers encircling Merlin’s. “Don’t you think it’s time we got to know one another a little better?” Jacob’s eyes twinkle, creasing in the corners.

“I don’t know,” Merlin hedges.  He looks away. Jacob scoots his chair closer to Merlin’s. They’ve just finished dinner, and one of Merlin’s servants comes to clear the dishes away.

“I know you’ve had your heart broken,” Jacob says in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin swallows thickly, staring down at Jacob’s hand on his.

“Let me help you mend, Merlin,” Jacob pleads. “I really like you.”

“You don’t understand…” Merlin says hoarsely. “Arthur is the only man I’ve ever responded to…that way. And I still love him.”

Jacob squeezes Merlin’s knee. “That’s the way it works with bonds of the heart. You’re undoubtedly soul mates,” he says wisely, and Merlin looks up into the boy’s eyes, surprised at his understanding. “It’s okay, Merlin. But you can’t be alone. You need companionship. And I want to be with you.”  He leans in and kisses Merlin again. “And this is nice, isn’t it?”

Merlin has to admit that it is.

***

The door to the shower opens and someone steps in behind him. Uther stiffens a moment before relaxing. He’s expected this.

Large hands move up Uther’s bare sides, gliding over the wet skin there, and he feels himself responding. He’s always had a strong libido, for both men and for women, and his age seems to have only strengthened that. He looks down, water cascading over his head, and watches his large cock stir. It’s more than ready for some action, as he’s spent days thinking of Gwen and her warm thighs and soft breasts. It doesn’t matter so much that it’s a hard dick pressed up to Uther’s crack—he wants it.

“I don’t bottom,” he says, turning his head out of the spray just as nimble fingers take his cock and begin to stroke. Uther arches his back, moaning. It’s a lie, of course. He’s bottomed for Nimueh and her strap-on dildos plenty of times. The memory makes him harder still.

“Maybe it’s about time you do,” the voice in his ears says.

“Not for you,” Uther growls.

“I saved this arse; I’m entitled to it at least once,” Cenred growls, spreading Uther’s legs and pressing him against the wet tiles. Suddenly the singular feeling of a large cockhead pressing past the rings of his rectum has Uther shouting and moving back into the other man.

“Once, then,” Uther grunts, breathless, and Cenred begins to thrust. “We’ll discuss our alliance after.”

“This time,” Cenred says with a particularly vicious lunge of his hips, “I call the shots.”

 


	41. Unexpected Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean to get readers into a tizzy with Jacob and all! I think the brevity of the chapter left everyone with the wrong idea. Here's more.  
> Thanks for the good wishes about RL troubles. I appreciate it. <3  
> I recently realized I've spelled Sabra two ways, I think. (Sabre.) I haven't gone back to correct that yet. Thanks for putting up with my errors.

Merlin, Jacob, and Ezzie have lunch together when Sabra comes running into the palace, an irate servant scuttling behind her.

“You can’t just charge into the prince’s quarters whenever you feel like it!” the servant storms.

“It’s fine, Waslo,” Merlin tells him, and the servant bows, retreating with a scowl directed at Sabra.

“Merlin,” Sabra hurries forward and perches on the edge of the chair next to his at the table, “we’ve just had communication that Leon’s ship’s been spotted.”

Merlin immediately stands, his chair falling to the floor behind him. “How far away?” His heart pounds so loudly in his chest, it fills his ears, and he can barely hear Sabra’s reply. It sounds a bit like _Arthur Arthur Arthur._ Merlin had almost given up hope on finding out the facts of what happened to him. All his fears come rushing to the surface at once, and Merlin has to grip the edge of the table in order to remain on his feet.

“Should be here within the hour.” Sabra’s eyes are wide and empathetic.

Merlin’s hand goes to his chest. Leon had promised to make certain Arthur’s safe. Knowing that he’ll finally have some validation on the news that Arthur willingly went to Mantodea brings Merlin a simultaneous rush of both relief and heartache.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he tells Sabra, watching numbly as Jacob rights his chair for him.

“I know you’re anxious for news on Arthur,” Sabra tells him, glancing at Jacob and Ezzie.

Merlin nods. “Join us,” he says after a moment, but Sabra shakes her head.

“I have to get back to work. I just wanted you to know.” She gets up and straightens her simple yellow robe.

“I’ll want Leon to stay here with me, of course,” Merlin says, and Sabra nods.

Merlin can barely eat after that. Not only does he have butterflies in his stomach, but his magic jumps around, clearly agitated. Merlin isn’t sure if it’s because he’s thinking so much of Arthur or what, but it’s disconcerting. He barely listens to the polite conversation that Ezzie and Jacob make.

“Merlin,” Jacob finally says, “please calm down.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin says distractedly.

“It’s the broken bond,” Ezzie says suddenly, brushing bread crumbs out of his beard. “Your bond with Arthur longs to be mended.”

Merlin winces. “I don’t need reminding of that.”

Ezzie covers a yawn with his hand. “I’m tired. Not as young as I used to be.”

Jacob’s mouth turns down and he stands, putting his hand out for Merlin to take. “Let’s walk in the garden while Ezzie has his nap.”

The sun is at its farthest point, a dim bulb in the sky, as dark as it gets on that side of the planet. Jacob tries to take Merlin’s hand in his as they walk, but Merlin’s restless, and he jerks it away.

“Sorry,” Merlin says. “I’m nervous.”

“About what, exactly?” Jacob asks.

“About what I’m going to hear concerning Arthur,” Merlin tells him. “I’m scared. What if he really didn’t agree to go? What if he’s hurt? Or worse?” He realizes he’s wringing his hands and stops. “It’s easy to put to the back of my mind when there’s nothing to do about it, but now that I know Leon is on his way with some news…” he worries his lip, staring off into the distance.

“Didn’t you say yourself that you thought you’d know it if Arthur died?” Jacob asks softly. “You also said it’s just like him to have offered himself over in order to save his friends. And that the prince of Mantodea was intent on having him.”

That thought makes Merlin’s blood boil. He’s tried not to think about it, but it isn’t easy. Jacob stops and puts his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, green eyes looking at him with sincerity. “Please, Merlin. I hate to see you so agitated.  You’ve felt so much better lately.”

Merlin sighs. Jacob is a good person and a good friend. Merlin’s told him time and again that’s all they ever will be—friends—and Jacob insists he can live with that. The kisses are nice, and the companionship has made Merlin stronger, but he still misses Arthur, and being with Jacob is absolutely nothing like being with Arthur. Now that Merlin feels almost one hundred percent again, he’s restless and edgy and not particularly content about sitting in Iam and ruling as its prince. Perhaps he should go with his instincts and travel to Mantodea, chop Peter’s balls off, and carry Arthur away with him. He knows, however, that if he were to do that, Arthur wouldn’t appreciate it.

Jacob puts his hand on Merlin’s cheek. “That’s it, breathe.”

“Good to see you’re not on your deathbed,” a familiar, much-loved voice cuts into the quiet air of the garden at the same moment that Merlin’s magic rises out of him like lava shooting from a volcano, charging the air around them and zinging through Merlin’s skin so that Jacob quacking withdraws his hand, jumping back a foot and landing on his arse on the ground.

“Arthur!” Merlin’s face lights up. It’s so wonderful to see him standing there at the gate, looking healthy, beautiful, and alive, that Merlin feels tears spring into his eyes. He wants to run to him and kiss him, but Arthur doesn’t look happy--he stands frowning, hands on hips.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asks him. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried!”

“I can see that,” Arthur snaps, and Merlin blinks. He can sense Jacob getting to his feet behind him. Merlin takes a step toward Arthur, needing to touch him and feel that he’s real, just as his eyes are drawn to two figures passing through the gate. Merlin recognizes Leon with none other than the Prince of Mantodea.

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here?” Merlin’s body stiffens.

“I was led to believe…” Arthur answers Merlin, turning to glare at Leon, “that you were on your deathbed due to being separated from me.”

Leon gestures helplessly, eyes apologetic. “He was.”

“You look fine to me,” Arthur tells Merlin. “More than fine.” He glares past him at Jacob. “I see it wasn’t very difficult to replace me.”

“Arthur, are you jealous?” Merlin asks, unable to contain the giddy feeling rising in his chest.

Arthur scowls, and Peter steps forward, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

“Of course he isn’t. He’s only annoyed that we’ve traveled so far to take care of a responsibility that didn’t need taking care of.” Peter looks down his long nose at Merlin. “We should be at home planning our union.”

“Of course,” Merlin feels his magic trying to burrow under Arthur’s clothing in order to get close to his skin, and Merlin would like to join it. Instead, he tries to reign it in, but he can’t; his magic wants to be with Arthur and won’t take no for an answer.

A fine sheen of sweat beads on Arthur’s brow, and he reaches up and loosens his shirt collar, his eyes wavering from Merlin’s. Merlin wants to detach Peter’s arm—the one that’s wrapped proprietarily around Arthur’s shoulders-- from his body and beat him to death with it. He briefly considers it as a real option; Merlin is the ruler of this planet, after all. What would the people of Mantodea do if they found out? _Come and eat you all, idiot,_ a voice within him answers.

A servant appears in the doorway, and Merlin directs him to make some rooms in the palace ready for his guests.

“Jacob,” Merlin says to his friend, “perhaps it would be best if you go home now.”

Jacob looks crestfallen. “You might need me,” he says.

“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “I appreciate your support, but I need to talk to my friends privately.”

Jacob nods and turns, casting a long look Arthur’s way. Arthur returns it unwaveringly, and Merlin again gets the feeling that Arthur’s jealous. Could Arthur truly want Merlin now that it’s his choice alone to make? The thought that he might causes Merlin to briefly reconsider the idea of offing Peter somehow. He knows that he can’t, however; it would bring the wrath of Frederick down on them and endanger all of Merlin’s people. He contents himself with a caustic look sent Peter’s way, along with a well-placed zap to the Mantoid’s balls. Peter jumps, yelping.

A small crowd has gathered at the gate, no doubt at the news that Merlin’s soul mate and preferred consort has suddenly appeared on the planet. There’s a general grumbling of discord at the sight of the prince of Mantodea.

“We can take care of that insect for you, Prince Merlin,” a man named Ralph growls, and several other healthy magic-users nod in eager assent, flexing their magic.

“No,” Merlin straightens his back, “we will not harm him. He is not here to hurt us.”

“His workers ate our people!” Someone calls out angrily.

Merlin nods. “Yes, but it was an agreement made by Uther Pendragon with his people. This is complicated. Leave me in privacy, please.”

The crowd quietly disperses, and Arthur stares at Merlin, eyes unreadable.

“You’ve got quite the following here,” he tells Merlin.

“You told me yourself I have a responsibility to them,” Merlin says, a little stung. In a corner of his brain, he can feel what his magic feels—the soft skin of Arthur’s sides and lower back—and Merlin hardens for the first time in ages. He senses Arthur’s own arousal, as well as their deeper soul connection, which stirs restlessly.

Peter’s hard gaze remains on his intended. “May we go to our rooms now? It’s been a long trip,” he says coolly and with more disdain than someone visiting the planet of his enemy should rightly have. “My intended is tired.”

Arthur shoots him a disgusted look but doesn’t speak.

“Certainly,” Merlin replies. He suddenly realizes that Will has joined them, and he greets him after calling the servant to show them to their rooms.

“Don’t let Arthur feed you any shit,” Will whispers in Merlin’s ear while everyone moves off into the palace. “He’s miserable and missing you.”

Merlin grins at Will, giving him a brief, heart-felt hug. “Thanks,” he says, and Will scoffs, pushing Merlin away.

“Just saying it like it is. Getting a little sick of the two of you botching things up.” He leans closer to Merlin so only he can hear. “Don’t know what you’re going to do about the grasshopper, but you’ll have to be careful, whatever it is.”

Merlin grasps Will’s wrist. “Are you absolutely positive Arthur wants me? I mean, I’m sure he doesn’t want Peter, but…”

Will rolls his eyes. “You two are worse than a couple of girls! He hasn’t said as much, but it’s obvious. Get him alone and talk to him, for Jupiter’s sake!”

Merlin nods, following Will into the palace, thinking he knows just how he's going to manage that.

 

 

 


	42. To Have it All

 

Merlin knocks and enters the darkened room to find Arthur half-rising out of one of the twin beds. He summons a light blue orb to hang above him, softly illuminating the area that the heavy drapes so effectively dimmed, and shuts the door behind him.

“Not asleep yet, I hope?” Merlin asks, not bothering to keep his voice down, and Arthur casts a look toward the bed where Peter lies sleeping soundly.

“Shhh…!” Arthur gets to his feet and reaches for his trousers. “Let’s go in the hall,” he whispers.

“No need to,” Merlin says confidently, taking a seat on the edge of Peter’s bed and bouncing on it to prove his point.  The Mantoid prince doesn’t rouse.

“You gave him something,” Arthur accuses, dropping his trousers and staring at Merlin, looking so fit and beautiful that Merlin can’t stand it. He’s already hard as a rock just from being in Arthur’s presence.

“Just a heavy sleeping spell,” Merlin tells him, trying to adjust himself where his cock piercing has snagged on his pants without Arthur noticing. “I want to be able to talk with you without being interrupted.”

Arthur sighs and sits back down on his bed. “He insisted upon coming. I wasn’t surprised.” He studies his hands. “When I found out your life was in danger, I just wanted to get here.”

“Leon wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Merlin says, annoyed.

“He didn’t.” Arthur raises blue eyes to look at Merlin. “Will did.”

“Figures,” Merlin says. “Leon didn’t have to tell Will, though. Once the bond broke…it took a while, but I’m fine now.”

“I can see that,” Arthur replies. “I guess Jacob had something to do with that.”

“A little,” Merlin admits, heart hammering when he sees Arthur’s shoulders stiffen. “I needed someone to talk to. I’ve been very much alone here.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” Arthur scoffs. “You being the prince…everyone adores you.”

“And keeps their distance,” Merlin says.

“Well,” Arthur won’t meet Merlin’s eyes, and it’s driving Merlin mad.  “You’re free now to find another consort…live happily ever after.”

Merlin can’t help but laugh, and this finally brings Arthur’s indignant eyes to his. “You’re really daft, Arthur. You don’t get it. You’re my _soul mate_. There’s no one else for me, ever. Jacob’s just a companion…someone to talk to and share ideas with. Kiss sometimes. Hell, I can’t even get it up for anyone but you.”

Merlin feels as well as sees Arthur’s gaze lower to the sizable bulge in Merlin’s loose trousers. It fills up the space, pressing against the soft material so that the piercing at the head is clearly visible. Merlin watches Arthur swallow.

“And I’m sorry about my magic,” Merlin continues when Arthur doesn’t speak. “I can’t seem to control it. I suppose it’ll return to me when you leave.”

Arthur nods, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and letting it go. The gesture makes Merlin’s dick pulse, and Arthur catches the movement, breath hitching in his throat.

“I’ve missed you,” Merlin says hoarsely. “I didn’t want to leave Earth without you. I wish I hadn’t. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I had to make this deal,” Arthur replies, a muscle jerking in his jaw. “I had to. All those people…”

“I know,” Merlin replies, heart hurting.

“I can’t go back on my word,” Arthur tells him, “no matter how much I want to.”

“Do you want to?” Merlin asks quietly, his magic dancing inside him.

Arthur’s eyes soften. “More than anything, Merlin.”

And then he’s there, kneeling in front of Merlin, looking up at him, and Merlin can’t breathe. He forgets that there’s a Mantoid prince sleeping behind him, just a foot away—all he can see is Arthur’s face as it gets closer and closer before Merlin removes that last inch between them and presses their mouths together in a wet, warm kiss that ignites every nerve ending in Merlin’s body.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Arthur whispers into Merlin’s mouth just before his tongue delves in, sweeping through, urging a moan out of Merlin that’s loud in the otherwise quiet room. Merlin bring his hands up and clutches at Arthur’s bare back, pulling him close, reveling in the feel of soft skin covering taut muscle and sinew.

Merlin’s magic surrounds them, cocooning them as they feast on one another’s mouths, hands moving everywhere.

Arthur pulls away, sinking down onto his heels. “Dreamed of this,” he says before lowering his face to the damp spot on Merlin’s pants, breathing on it. Merlin pushes up into the heat, crying out when Arthur runs his tongue over the cotton, cock pulsing with every beat of his heart. Arthur carefully peels down the material and when his mouth covers him, Merlin closes his eyes, tilting his head back, adrift in incredible sensation.

Arthur’s tongue is hot and sinfully soft as it swirls around Merlin’s cockhead, sliding over the slit and toying with the silver balls of his piercing. Merlin brings shaking fingers to Arthur’s hair, tugging at it as Arthur begins to suck in earnest.

“Oh, fuck, Arthur…” Merlin sighs, and Arthur takes Merlin down to his throat, swallowing. Merlin begins to tremble, words falling out of his mouth that he can’t control. “Shit, Arthur….gods…so good. So good…love you so much. Arthur…Arthur, yes…” his magic swirls around them, burrowing under Arthur’s shirt and trousers to touch Arthur’s skin, plucking at his nipples, torturing his ball-sac with feather-light touches, making him squirm and groan around Merlin’s turgid cock.

Merlin’s balls tighten, and he keens, feeling the stream of spunk shoot out of them through his cock and into Arthur’s throat. Arthur swallows greedily, and Merlin bites back a sob at how good it is, his hips jerking erratically.

As soon as Arthur lets Merlin slip from his mouth, Merlin’s on him, jerking Arthur to his feet and his trousers to his knees. Arthur’s hard and throbbing with need, and Merlin sucks him in hungrily, pulling the scent of Arthur through his nostrils, trying to memorize it for later when he’ll be all alone again.

Merlin lets Arthur fuck his mouth, opening his jaw wide and pushing down his gag reflex. Arthur makes deliciously vulnerable noises, his hips moving rhythmically until he loses all control, jerking Merlin back by the hair and burying himself in Merlin’s mouth. Merlin feels another pulse of cum leave his own body as his nose smashes into the trimmed nest of Arthur’s blond pubic hair, Arthur’s cries of completion loud in the room. He grips the backs of Arthur’s legs before bringing his hands up to glance over the tightened globes of Arthur’s arse, feeling the tension release as Arthur’s fingers loosen their hold and begin to gently stroke Merlin’s hair.

Merlin sucks in a breath, pulling away and letting Arthur’s wet cock leave his mouth with one last gentle suck that makes Arthur gasp.

They’re both quiet as they adjust their clothing and then cross to sit together on Arthur’s bed, hands enfolded and fingers entwined. Merlin feels replete and almost content, forgetting for a brief moment that this is not his to keep.

“I can’t let you go with him,” Merlin says after reality sets in. “I’ll kill him.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No you won’t. It will mean death to your people.”

Merlin tightens his hold on Arthur’s hand. “I can’t let you go,” he states firmly.

“You have to.” Arthur looks at him, face earnest. His blond hair sticks up where Merlin pulled on it, and his lips are reddened from Merlin’s kisses. “But Merlin…know this. If it weren’t this way, I would be with you. Here. Your consort.”

Merlin’s eyes widen in wonder. “You don’t mean that. Do you?”

Arthur smiles, blushing a little, and Merlin’s heart runs over with love for him. “I think I do.” He pushes his shoulder up against Merlin’s, laying his head on Merlin’s shoulder. “I think helping you rule this planet of peace-loving people might be a lovely thing. Having your children, even…” his voice trails off, and pain envelopes Merlin’s heart at everything that might have been but won’t be.

“How will you get a successor?” Arthur asks after a while.

Merlin shrugs. “I don’t care,” he says dully.

“But your people do,” Arthur says realistically. “Perhaps…they can inseminate someone.”

Merlin sighs. “Arthur, don’t.”

“It might work,” Arthur continues. “That way, Iam will have future rulers…”

“Stop!” Merlin almost shouts, turning to Arthur angrily. “I don’t care about that! If I can’t have you and your children, I don’t want any! Can’t you see that?”

“You have responsibilities,” Arthur tells him quietly, and Merlin jumps off the bed.

“I’m not you, Arthur. Perhaps I’m selfish and just want what I want. Perhaps if I were you, I wouldn’t put so much into my word and I’d simply do what I want to do! To hell with Peter and Mantodea!”

Arthur appears stunned for a moment, but then he just looks sad. “You know I can’t go back on my word,” he tells Merlin. “They’ll just retaliate.”

“And we’ll kill them all!” Merlin’s face flushes with anger and desperation.

“You don’t want to do that,” Arthur says. “Besides, how many of your people would be killed in the process? You wouldn’t risk even one person’s life for your own happiness.”

“How do you know that?” Merlin feels the tears rise to his eyes. “You don’t know me.” To his horror, his bottom lip trembles.

Arthur nods, scooting to the edge of the bed and taking Merlin’s hand in his. “I do, Merlin. I think I always have, somehow. It isn’t in you.” He brings Merlin’s hand to his lips and kisses it, and Merlin’s tears begin to fall. Sinking to his knees on the floor and burying his face in Arthur’s lap, he lets himself cry.

***

“I told you I was right,” Cenred says, a smirk on his face. “They’re planning on springing your son from Mantodea.”

“And what are you doing about it?” Uther asks, watching the screen in his office --Uriah, the Gattoian, stands in front of the ship talking to Gwaine, hands gesturing in frustration.

“I’ve already delayed their start twice,” Cenred says, leaning back and taking a drag of his cigarette.

“If you hadn’t been so busy sulking in your rooms, you would have known that.”

Uther scowls. It had taken a few days to become accustomed to the fact that things had not gone according to his plan. He had lost his son; his daughter has magic; Nimueh turned on him; and Cenred seems to have the upper hand at the moment.

Uther glances at the other man where he sits beside him. Cenred looks entirely too confident for Uther’s tastes--Uther is used to being in charge, and he doesn’t much like that Cenred obviously feels he’s got one over on Uther. That won’t last for long; Uther’s got too many connections. He’s already got a call through to the ruler of Skriat, asking for the financial help he needs so that he can regain his footing. Too much of Camelot was destroyed by the insectoids in their rampage trying to get to the magic-users, and Uther desperately wants to have a good face on when he broadcasts to other regions of Earth, declaring himself their new Supreme Regent.

What Uther really needs is Nimueh, but she’s left the planet, the bitch. He was going to ask her to find a way to extract Morgana’s magic from her—make her normal. But now another thought occurs to him; if he can bring Morgana to his way of thinking, he’ll have the magic–user he needs on his side. With a mother like Carlotta, she’s likely to be a powerful sorceress, and Uther can use that to his advantage. She can help him to get Arthur back and under his control, and they can be a family again. It was never Uther’s intention to leave his son with the insectoids for long; not when he could be a benefit to Uther. And then there’s Gwen, and their child…

Both Morgana and Gwen are still on Earth—he’s been able to find that much out—and Cenred has done him the favour of keeping them there. He turns to the other man, a sensuous smile playing about his lips.

“Cenred,” Uther purrs, running a hand through the opening of Cenred’s tunic and playing with his chest hair. “Since you’ve so cleverly detained them, perhaps you can bring them here to the mansion.”

Cenred leans in, his tongue coming out to trace Uther’s lips. “I suppose…any particular reason?”

“To keep an eye on them, of course. To question them about the others.” Uther kisses him, pressing their bodies together.

“I have a few men on my side that would be willing to do that for me, I think,” Cenred replies, his hand moving down to rub Uther’s prick. “But first, a little fun, eh?”

Uther doesn’t have much choice but to allow the other man to turn him on the large office sofa and press him into the cushions. It isn’t that much of a sacrifice, as Cenred is an accomplished lover and certainly not the worst Uther’s been with, but Uther does hate relinquishing control to another man. As he buries his face in the couch pillow and gives himself up to Cenred, Uther lets part of his mind wander to plans for the future. Things might not have completely gone to plan, but he still got rid of most of the magic-users, and he could still potentially rule Earth.

He curses, squeezing his eyes shut as Cenred reaches down and begins milking his cock like a cow’s udder. He shudders, a powerful orgasm building at the base of his spine.

He can still have it all.


	43. Trapped

“What the fuck?” Gwaine sits up, rubbing his head. He winces, fingers gentling over the sensitive pump knot there. He carefully straightens out his legs on what feels like a cold, hard, floor and flexes the muscles in his back before trying to get up.

Everything sways around him, and Gwaine sits heavily down again, gasping when a sharp pain shoots through his hipbone.

“Gwaine?” a voice echoes throughout the area, and Gwaine recognizes it immediately.

“Percy? What happened? Where are we?”

“Best I can make out, some sort of basement room. I remember being attacked near the ship.”

Memories flood Gwaine’s muddled mind—the ship’s controls malfunctioning _again_ , Uriah cursing and the two of them discussing options, and then the sudden appearance of at least twenty men dressed in black, welding heavy clubs.

Moans and rustling around him alert Gwaine to the presence of others. “Are we all here?” he asks Percy.

“I don’t know,” Percy replies. “It’s too dark to tell. I’ve been waiting for someone with magic to awaken.”

“Morgana?” Gwaine calls. “Morgause?”

There’s no answer.

“They could be knocked out,” another voice says hoarsely. Uriah, Gwaine thinks.

“Morgana?” Uriah calls loudly.

A moment later and Thomas, Lance, and Sefa are awake.

“Gwen’s not here, either,” Sefa tells them after asking everyone conscious to move until their back hits a wall and crawling the entire circumference of the room while Percy makes ever-narrowing rounds about the inside.

Thomas lets out a curse. “It’s Uther!”

“How can you be so sure?” Gwaine asks, confused. He’s located Lance and scooted next to him, placing a hand on the other man’s chest. Lance is groggy and breathing a little erratically, and Gwaine’s worried. He lifts his fingers to Lance’s neck where a film of cold sweat coats the skin. Lance’s pulse isn’t as strong as Gwaine would like.

“Gwen is carrying Uther’s baby,” Thomas tells them, and Gwaine feels Lance jerk beneath his hand. “He was after her, I’m sure of it. And he probably got wind of where we were going, too.”

“I’m glad the others shipped off to Iam safely,” Percy breathes.

“Is it possible Elena and her group will be alarmed when we don’t meet them?” Sefa asks.

Uriah makes a derisive noise. “Her group’s on Tantra for recreation…all those women with mouths for orifices, we’re lucky if Elena’s men can string together a coherent thought.” He sighs. “She’s just  think we changed our minds.”

“You’re kidding,” Sefa says. “Mouths?”

“I went to Tantra once,” Elyan says, feeling his way from Vivian to Thomas, checking for injuries. His voice takes on a dreamy quality. “It was…quite a vacation.”

“Men,” Vivian grunts. “Sefa, did you happen to feel a door while you were crawling about?”

“Yes, but it’s heavily barred.”

“Did you expect anything else?” Uriah grumbles.

When Elyan reaches Lance, he mutters, “Not good. I wish we could get him out of here.” He feels about and Lance lets out a moan. “I think his ankle’s broken and also a couple of ribs. He’s in shock. Let’s get him on his back and I’ll cover him with my jacket.”

Lance’s limbs tremble as they lay him out, Gwaine’s rolled up jacket beneath Lance’s head. Gwaine takes the injured man’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly, worry gripping his gut.

“It seems that only Gwen, Morgana, and Morgause are missing among us,” Sefa says.

“So Uther’s taken the mother of his child, his daughter, and the only other magic-user among us,” Uriah states.

“Wonder what he plans to do with the rest of us?” Daegal says. “Probably a bit optimistic to think he’ll let us go.”

“I’d say,” Uriah agrees wryly. “He’ll kill us, more like.”

They all sink into silence, that uncomfortable thought foremost in their minds.

***

Morgana paces the confines of her old bedroom, throwing glances at the stoic face of her father.

“Please sit down, Morgana, you’re making me nauseous,” Uther tells her, voice quiet.

Morgana stops, fingers itching to hex him in some manner. But Uther has already made it clear that if she uses her magic at all, Morgause is a dead woman.

 _Morgause._ Her thoughts fly to her lover. Not ten hours ago, they were curled up together in a bed in Tintagel, limbs warm and heavy from sleep, certain that today would be the day they would fly to Mantodea to save Arthur. Morgana can’t lose Morgause. It’s been bad enough losing Mithian, who was only a friend—not the love of Morgana’s life. She shudders, remembering how only last night Morgause had ground against her, eyes boring into hers as they both soared and Morgana had felt so connected to the other woman, she wanted to cry. She’s never felt that with anyone else.

“Father…” she pleads, hating herself for resorting to begging. “Bring Morgause to me.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, my dear,” Uther says.

“Don’t hurt her,” Morgana whimpers.

“That all depends upon you.”

***

“Why is it that I feel so strangely?” Peter demands, munching on a piece of celery, which happens to grow abundantly on Iam and turns out to be Peter’s favourite food.

Merlin raises a brow at him. “Perhaps it’s the change of scenery.”

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “I never sleep as deeply as I did last night, and my mind’s a fog.” He looks suspiciously at Merlin. “You drugged me, didn’t you?” He glances over at Arthur, who casually eats his breakfast. “What happened? Did you touch Arthur? Did you put your grubby, magical hands on my intended?”

Merlin bristles, and Arthur looks up from his plate.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peter. You just slept well.”

Peter stands and moves his chair closer to Arthur. “You’re mine,” he tells him. “Don’t forget it.” He leans in and kisses Arthur. Merlin’s muscles tense to the point of pain, and his magic swirls through the air. Peter jumps.

“You shocked me!” he accuses, staring at Merlin with contemptuous eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin’s gaze is fixed on the wet on Arthur’s lips, evidence of Peter’s kiss. His stomach roils.

Peter jumps up, storming toward Merlin, and three servants step out of the shadows, grabbing hold of Peter’s arms.

“You can’t treat me this way! I will send hoards of workers to consume your people!” Peter shouts, enraged.

“Calm down.” Arthur is immediately on his feet, a calming hand on Peter’s arm. Merlin wants to pull Arthur away from the Mantoid prince; he wants to pin Arthur against the wall, burying his face in Arthur’s groin, and suck those noises Arthur made the night before out of him again. At the same time, his heart yearns to hold Arthur, to love him and never let him go. Merlin hasn’t felt this much going on inside him in weeks.

Peter’s chest heaves. “Arthur,” he breathes, “I would like a word with you. Alone.”

Merlin nods, and the men let go of Peter.

Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s briefly, a warning held there, before he follows Peter into the room they share, the door closing behind them.

Merlin knows Arthur hasn’t slept with Peter; according to Arthur, Peter wants to wait until the night of their union, when Arthur is expected to mount the Mantoid prince and fill him with seed. The thought makes Merlin want to drive a bolt of magic into Peter so forceful that it will blow his molecules to oblivion. Heart beating a staccato drum in his chest, Merlin takes a few steps closer to the shut door, straining his ears to hear within. After a moment of futile struggle, Merlin resorts to using his magic to see inside the room, immediately wishing he hadn’t when he’s met with the sight of Arthur in Peter’s embrace, their mouths moving over one another.

After a taking a moment to steady himself, Merlin can see that Arthur really isn’t participating that much; the hands on Peter’s hips seem to grip more in resolve than passion, and Peter is really doing all the work. Merlin knows Arthur isn’t attracted to the Mantoid, but seeing Peter’s hands on Arthur, bond intact or no, makes Merlin furious. He watches, barely controlling his urge to intervene, as Peter finally steps away from Arthur, taking Arthur’s hands in his.

“You’ve seen that he’s well—it’s time to return to Mantodea.”

The struggle on Arthur’s face is obvious, fleeting though it is before he manages to hide it, nodding resignedly.

Merlin whirls around, overtaken by rage and what can only be labeled as pure fear at the thought of losing Arthur again. Stalking out into the garden, his eyes turn a bright golden as he raises his hands to the perpetually sunny skies of Iam and murmurs a spell, the origins of which he doesn’t even know.

 _Teacht stoirmeacha is dorcha clúdach_ _an phláinéid!_

Immediately dark, sinister clouds blown by gale winds gather, and thunder shakes the ground. Merlin keeps murmuring the words until it’s dark as deepest night, birds are blown from their nests, and the garden bench flies into a nearby tree and gets caught there.

_Fanacht go dtí go dorcha anfa Cuireann mo focal dhuit!_

Merlin walks into the palace, content that Peter will not be taking Arthur anywhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's spell:
> 
> *come darkest storms envelop the planet
> 
> **stay dark tempest until my word removes thee


	44. A Way Out

“We aren’t doomed yet,” Thomas says, his voice loud in the quiet that has fallen over the group. “Uther doesn’t know this, but I have magic.”

“Fuck, that’s right!” Gwaine says, sitting up and turning in the direction of Thomas’ voice.

“If he had known, he would have taken me, too,” Thomas says. “I hid it from him.”

“Is Freya here?” Sefa asks. “George?”

“I’ve just found George,” Elyan tells them. “He’s knocked out cold. Fuck, it’s dark in here!”

“Is he okay?” Percy asks.

“He’s alive,” Elyan mutters.

“They probably got Freya,” Thomas says. “Uther suspected her; I’m sure of it.”

“Fuck,” Uriah swears. “If he hurts her…”

“Thomas, can you open the door?” Gwaine asks, getting to his feet.

“I should be able to if I can locate it.”

“It’s behind me,” Sefa tells him. “Follow my voice.”

Thomas begins crawling forward as Sefa keeps talking. When he reaches her, she moves aside and he plants his hands on the door, muttering an incantation. There’s a loud clicking noise and the door swings open.

“Thank fuck,” Elyan breathes, and there are several other murmurs of agreement.

“Now what’s the plan?” Thomas asks, peering around the door. “It appears that we’re in the bowels of the mansion.”

“We have to find the others and get out of here, but our ship won’t operate,” Uriah says.

“Can we contact someone for help?” Elyan asks.

“I can try to make it through the back passageways to the exit and drive to _Pendragon_ to radio for help,” Thomas offers. “Do you have the coordinates for Leon’s ship?”

“Yes,” Gwaine digs into the pocket of his jacket for his telroid. “And also Will’s telroid.” He hands it to Thomas. “There’s not any signal in here, but perhaps you’ll have better luck once you’re outside.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sefa says. “What will the rest of you do?”

“Close the door and ambush them when they come down?” Percy suggests.

“I’m going to go find my sister,” Uriah heads for the door. “Uther isn’t going to the magic-users live.”

“George is coming round,” Elyan says, bending over the groaning man.

“I say we all get the hell out of here,” Gwaine orders. “We’re sitting ducks down here. We can take a back passageway to Arthur’s rooms and barricade ourselves in there.”

“Arthur may even have a weapon or two hidden there,” Percy agrees, crouching to help Gwaine lift Lance to his feet.

***

Morgana spent a good portion of the afternoon speaking with the leader of Skriat via video communication assuring him that the rumours of Uther wiping out all the magic-users on Earth are unfounded. She demonstrated her own magic and told him that she supported her father one hundred percent as Supreme Regent of Earth. Only then did the ruler agree to give Uther the financial backing he’s been asking for.

“Now will you bring Morgause to me?” Morgana asks Uther after the video conference is over.

He smiles at her. “All in good time, my daughter. I must go talk to Gwen now. You eat your dinner here in your rooms.” Uther turns and leaves, locking the door after him. “Remember,” he calls through the wood, “no magic! Or you’ll never see Morgause again.”

He walks down the hall, humming a tune. Gwen is being kept in his chambers, and he finds her awake and agitated.

“Uther!” she says when he walks in.

“Gwen,” he nods at her. “You look well. I told them to go easy on you because of the baby.” He shakes his head. “I’m not very happy with you for drugging me.”

Gwen looks away. “I couldn’t let you hurt my friends.”

“There’s a bigger picture involved.” His eyes take in her disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, and he feels a rush of affection for her.

“Uther,” Gwen says, turning to him. “Where is the rest of my team?”

Uther steps toward her, placing his hands gently on her upper arms. “Don’t worry about them. You are where you need to be.”

Gwen pulls away from him. “Don’t tell me what to do! I don’t belong to you!”

“Gwen…” Uther’s voice holds a warning note. He will not allow her to humiliate him again, no matter how he feels about her.

“Let me out of here! I want my friends! Where are they?” She races for the door, trying to open it. Uther grabs her by the arm, spinning her around.

“Stop it!” he growls into her face. “You will stop this right now. You are carrying my child, and I will not have you harming it with your hysterics.”

“I don’t even know if it’s yours!” Gwen spits the words at him. “You aren’t the only man I slept with, Uther!”

Uther moves back as though slapped. “You little whore,” he seethes.

Gwen laughs mirthlessly. “Sure. Tell yourself that, Uther. And how many people have you been fucking?”

Uther slaps her across the face, hard, and Gwen gasps, her hand flying to her cheek and tears springing to her eyes.

“When you are ready to apologize, I’ll think about forgiving you,” he tells her. “And perhaps I’ll consider raising your brat, whether it’s mine or a bastard.”

“Where are my friends?” Gwen demands through gritted teeth.

Uther smirks. “Perhaps I’ll answer your question when you ask it with my cock in your mouth.”

“You bastard!” Gwen breathes, shaking visibly. “And to think I actually had feelings for you.”

“Really?” Uther’s eyes are scornful as they run over her. “It seemed you may have also had feelings for my butler, the way you shamelessly moaned in front of him.”

Gwen’s cheeks colour with shame, and Uther laughs triumphantly.

“Where is Thomas, anyway?” he asks her. “I haven’t seen him through all of this. He would have no reason to run—one would almost think he…” Uther stops, catching the way Gwen’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Could it be? If Thomas has magic…He turns and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. He calls to his men to follow him to the basement.

***

Agravaine stands at the safe in Uther’s office in _Pendragon_ , methodically emptying it of its contents. Once his brother-in-law had set him free from the basement room where Arthur had locked him up, Agravaine had wasted no time in plotting his escape. Uther wasn’t thinking clearly, what with his crush on the woman Gwen and his inability to see the prudence in killing his daughter once he learned she’s a magic-user. Uther also showed bad logic in ever trusting the witch Nimueh, and now he’s trusting that nitwit Cenred.

Agravaine pockets every last bill and piece of gold that Uther has before making the call to see if the ship is ready to take him to Tetra. When he hangs up and turns around, he freezes.

“Well, well, what do you know,” Thomas says, stunning Agravaine into immobility with a bolt of magic, “I believe we’ve found our way off Earth!” He smiles at Sefa, who nods in agreement.


	45. Ready

Peter looks at the sky and curses.

“I don’t suppose this is an accident,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin replies less than innocently.

“Of course you don’t.” Peter scowls. “I’m fucking sick of you, you nasty magic-using bastard! It’s your fault Arthur tried to leave Mantodea! If I hadn’t caught him and got on the ship with him, you’d probably have your dirty magical paws all over him right now!”

“It’s pathetic you have to force a union with a man against his will,” Merlin sneers.

Arthur lets them bicker, walking off and staring out at the roiling clouds in the sky. Obviously, Merlin’s churned up a storm so that Peter can’t insist they fly back to Mantodea, and Arthur finds can’t be all that angry about it. After all, he isn’t exactly looking forward to going back to the planet of eternal buzzing and being forced to unite with Peter all because he made a promise in a moment of extreme duress.

He’s spent the entire night thinking about it, his skin smelling of Merlin and the hated clicking sound that Peter makes in his sleep keeping him awake, at war with his sense of justice and fair play—something he must have gotten from his mother. Arthur made a promise, and he believes that his word is something to be kept. All his life, Arthur has known many people from many planets, and they’ve all been different. The Mantoids may be abhorrent to him, and they may raise workers who consume magic-users, but that is their nature and not for Arthur to judge. It is Uther that Arthur judges for having agreed to feed a nest of insectoid newborns on the magic-users of Earth, and for having promised his own son in union to their prince.

In order to save his friends, Arthur locked himself into an agreement with Peter, and he sees no way out of it without endangering the people of Iam. If things were different, Arthur now realizes that he would willingly choose to be Merlin’s consort.

“I hear you thinking,” Will says, coming up behind Arthur and startling him.

“Being an intuitive, that doesn’t exactly surprise me,” Arthur says, looking over his shoulder.

“You’re wondering if it’s worth it to keep your word.”

Arthur shrugs a bit sullenly. “I can’t risk everyone’s life here.”

Will tilts his head. “Have you ever thought that they may be willing to fight for you? The rightful consort to their prince?”

Arthur turns and stares. “You’ve got to be kidding. Why would they want to risk their lives for me?”

“I just told you, dummy,” Will replies. “Because you’re the rightful consort to the Prince of Heka. He wants you. You’re his choice, his soul mate. He can only get it up for _you_ , for fuck’s sake! You alone can give Heka its heirs. Now, Merlin doesn’t want that unless you want it, but I…the intuitive…happen to sense that you do.” Will grins smugly. “So what are you going to do about it? Are you going to let them fight for you? Are you going to fight for what you want? Because the way I see it, up to this point, you’ve pretty much just been letting the whole universe fuck you over.”

Arthur stares at Will, his mouth agape. In the other room, the raised voices of the two princes hit a crescendo --Peter insisting that he will take Arthur back to Mantodea, storm or no storm, and Merlin telling him that he will sooner turn Peter into a toad than let him take Arthur away from him.

A smile plays about Arthur’s lips, a foreign feeling of elation rising within him.

“Are you sure about this, Will?”

“Of course I am, but if you don’t believe me…Ezzie!” he calls into the next room and a moment later the old man shuffles in. He looks questioningly between Will and Arthur, pulling at his beard with one freckled hand.

“If I were to tell you that Arthur here wants to be Prince Merlin’s consort but is prohibited by the people of Mantodea, what would you say to that?”

Ezzie turns dancing, rheumy eyes to Arthur. “I would say that the people of Mantodea should wisely ready themselves for a fight they will not win.”

Arthur blinks. Could it really be this easy? Could it be true that he really isn’t consigned to a life of misery?

“Ezzie…the Mantoid workers…they could devour all of you,” Arthur reminds him. “You just escaped that fate.”

Ezzie chuckles. “Arthur, we are on our own turf now,” he says. “And we’d fighting for our prince and his consort, which is an honour. Not only that, you have brought the Prince of Mantodea to us…what’s stopping us from holding him prisoner?” The old man smiles slyly, showing several blackened teeth.

Arthur walks to the archway leading into the next room and runs his eyes over the two men still bickering fiercely over him. There’s never been a question in Arthur’s mind that he loathes Peter. And now he is certain of his feelings for Merlin, he knows without a doubt that his heart wants to be with the Hekanian prince forever. He even wants to bear his children, as odd a thought as that is.

“Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, and Merlin turns to look at him, even as Peter keeps shouting obscenities and threats.

“Stun him,” Arthur says.

Merlin raises a brow, but immediately does so. Peter freezes mid-rant, hands raised in the air.

“What is it?” Merlin asks, coming to stand beside Arthur. “Are you angry with me? Arthur, I know it was drastic, but I just couldn’t let you go with him…”

“I know,” Arthur says, taking Merlin’s hand. “Look, I’m sorry. This has been hard on you.” He takes a deep breath. “Will you do something for me if I ask it?”

Merlin looks torn, as though he’s afraid Arthur might ask him to let him go. Finally he nods his head, his face sad. “What is it?”

“I want you to brand me with your magic again.”

“What?” Merlin’s blue eyes widen in surprise. “Arthur? What are you saying?” Merlin looks past Arthur to where Will and Ezzie stand smiling foolishly.

“I think you heard me,” Arthur says, a smile breaking out on his face. “I want you to brand me. I want to be your consort.” Arthur takes off the ring Peter gave him and throws it onto the floor where it rolls away.

“But…”Arthur feels Merlin’s magic jumping excitedly all around him, “but why? What changed? I mean, of course I will!” Merlin shakes his head, a huge smile spreading over his face.

“I’ll tell you in a minute; just do it!” Now that Arthur’s made the decision, he can’t wait for it to happen. He meets Merlin’s eyes as Merlin releases his hold on his magic, and like a bolt of lightning, it hits him, locking into place, and it feels so right, Arthur shudders with contentment. He grabs Merlin and kisses him fiercely, magic zinging through his blood.

“I’m going to spread the word!” Ezzie announces, heading for the door.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks breathlessly when they part.

“I…I just came to my senses, with some help from Will,” Arthur tells him, pressing their foreheads together and breathing in Merlin’s exhalations.

Merlin turns and looks at Will.

“What the fuck did you say?” he asks wonderingly.

“Just the truth…as your true consort, the only one that can give you heirs, your people would willingly fight for him.” Will shrugs.

Merlin turns wide eyes on Arthur. “And that’s all it took? Well, fuck! Of course they would, Arthur!”

Arthur laughs almost giddily. “I never would have asked them to fight. I never would have imagined they’d want to!”

Merlin shakes his head. “Arthur…you don’t know your own worth.”

A crowd begins gathering outside the door and a cheer goes up, joining in with the sound of thunder and pounding rain.

“Maybe that comes from a lifetime of being drugged and lied to,” Leon’s hand lands on Arthur’s shoulder. “Glad you came to your senses, mate.”

Will’s pocket begins beeping, and he digs his hand in it for his telroid, backing into the other room where there’s more light.

“Is it true, Merlin?” Sabra pushes her way into the palace. “Arthur? Oh, gods, I can see it is just by looking at you, Merlin! You’re radiant!” She begins jumping up and down, and Arthur feels his cheeks colouring. Sabra slows when she catches sight of Peter’s petrified stance. “What are we going to do with him? Ezzie says we may have a war on our hands.”

“Someone conjure up a cell to put him in,” Merlin orders, smiling brightly.

“Um, Merlin,” Arthur gestures to the storm still raging outside, drenching his loyal subjects to the bone as they stand shouting Arthur’s name.

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin blushes. _Anfa mighty roar agad stop!_ he intones, and immediately the storm ceases and all is calm again, the clouds blowing away to reveal a bright sun. A bevy of small, colourful birds gather at the open window, tittering at Merlin as though in chastisement for what he’d done before disappearing into the treetops.

Merlin turns to Arthur, encircling his waist with his arm. “We have to hurry and get this war out of the way so we can have the ceremony.” He buries his nose in Arthur’s neck, and Arthur’s heart clenches with love.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “A war.” He straightens his shoulders. “Okay, yeah. Let’s get on with it, then.”

“Wait a minute,” Will says, coming in from the next room. “I just had communication from Thomas on Gwaine’s telroid. There’s a problem. Your father’s detained a group on Earth, Arthur. He has Morgana.”

Arthur stiffens. “What? Is she all right?”

“As far as I know. He’s using her to gain favour with rulers of other planets, no doubt holding everyone else’s safety over her head, the bastard.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches. “He’s not getting away with this. I won’t let him.” He turns to Leon. “Will you take us there?”

“Of course,” Leon says.

“What about Peter?” Merlin asks.

“We have two choices: leave him here locked up and hope Frederick doesn’t miss him and send someone, or take him with us in cuffs.”

“I say leave him here,” Merlin says. “I’ll have troops guarding him and on the lookout for invaders from Mantodea.”

Arthur nods, leaning in to kiss Merlin. “Are you ready?”

Merlin nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”


	46. Releasing Some Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really dumb name for this chapter, yeah. Oh well.  
> Sorry about loose ends here and there. Trying to be better about it. Thanks for the comments, as always.

“What’s going on?” Lance grips Gwaine’s waist tightly, pain ripping up his side.

“We’re getting you and George to safety.” Gwaine picks their way around the debris left by the insectoid rampage, trying not to jolt Lance too much. His injuries are a bit more extensive than they first thought, and all Gwaine can think about is getting him to Iam and hospital there.

Lance’s semi-helpful steps falter, and he tries to turn and look at Gwaine, wincing all the while.

“We’re leaving Earth? But the others…”

“Lance, you’re hurt!” Gwaine tells him, trying to pull him along across the field to the airstrip while keeping his bad ankle off the ground. Gwaine can see Elyan waiting there next to the small ship with George, along with Thomas and a few others.

Lance doesn’t have the energy to fight Gwaine for long and allows himself to be helped the final few yards.

“Only room for five, other than the pilot,” Thomas yells over the powerful engines of the aircraft.

“Elyan, George, Lance, Agravaine. You go, too, Thomas.”

Thomas shakes his head. “I can help here.”

“Elyan will need you to help watch Agravaine. He may be a handful, even in cuffs. Go,” Gwaine says. “And thanks for all you’ve done.”

Thomas looks like he wants to argue, but gives in and helps Gwaine load Lance, getting him comfortable on a seat inside.

“Be careful,” Lance croaks, and Gwaine leans down and presses a kiss to Lance’s mouth.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

***

Tired of the mansion, Uther transfers Gwen and Morgana to his smaller home just outside Camelot. Cenred insists on accompanying them, but Uther doesn’t let that bother him.

As soon as they’re inside the doors, Uther breathes a sigh of relief. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to control Morgana and her magic by threats on Morgause’s life. Sometimes he truly wondered how he ever wound up with two such dense children. He really deserved more, and glancing at Gwen’s belly with the slightest of swelling just below the navel, he thrills at the thought that he has another chance to sire the child of his dreams at this late age.

He wonders if Gwen’s telling the truth about it perhaps being someone else’s child. He’s thought about ordering a test, but in the end chose to discard the idea entirely. The child will be his, regardless.

Gwen has been cold and distant to him, but Uther plans to win her over eventually. The country house is small and quaint, and even better, protected from all magic by charms put upon it many years ago. No one will be able to use magic inside its walls.

Uther and Cenred are having a brandy when Morgana awakens from her sleeping draught. She looks about her in confusion.

“Where---we’re at the summer house?” she asks, sitting up on the sofa and glancing over at the still-drugged Gwen.

Uther nods. “Your room is as it always is. Why don’t you go up and get some sleep?” He’s made certain that there’s no way to escape. He has guards everywhere on the property, and he’s had the windows sealed.

Morgana stands up a little shakily. “But…Morgause?”

Uther sighs. “Morgana, go to bed,” he orders.

Morgana straightens her spine. Behind her, Gwen stirs, blinking her eyes.

“Father, you promised me. I’ve done everything you asked. Where is Morgause?” Morgana insists.

“She’s where she belongs, and so are you,” Uther answers. “Now go get some sleep, or I will force it upon you.”

Morgana’s eyes widen, and suddenly she surges forward with a cry of outrage. Cenred moves out of his chair toward her, preventing her from touching Uther. Something about this stirs Uther’s libido, and he gives Cenred a provocative look before addressing his daughter again.

“Morgana, go to bed. Now. No more talk about that witch, ever, do you hear me? We’re going to be a family again. We’re going to get your brother back, and we’re all going to rule Camelot together!” He softens his voice. “Darling, you were simply brilliant negotiating with the ruler of Skriat! You were made for this! Can’t you see that? You’re my daughter.”

“ _Where is she_?” Morgana screams, and Uther takes a step back, both stunned and revolted by the display. Morgana’s eyes are wild and there’s a stream of spittle falling from her lips, and Uther suddenly thinks of Igraine and the scene she made when she found out about Carlotta.

“She’s dead, Morgana,” Uther tells her simply, voice neutral and devoid of all emotion. “She’s been dead, from the moment we captured her. Did you think I would really let her live?”

Silence, heavy as a blanket of snow, covers the room until Gwen makes a small, wounded noise from the couch. Morgana’s countenance slowly falls and she turns, as though sleepwalking, taking unfaltering steps up to her room.

“Come,” Uther holds his hand out to Gwen. “We’ll go to bed. It’s late.”

Gwen shakes her head, but Cenred just scoops her up and carries her up the stairs. Uther smiles. Cenred’s presence is really growing on him.

***

“This flight is endless,” Arthur says, staring out the small window at the stars. Normally, he’d be enthralled. He’s always enjoyed space flight, whether as the passenger or the pilot, but lately every flight he’s taken has been wrought with worry.

“We’ll get there, don’t worry,” Merlin tells him soothingly. Arthur turns and looks at him, the feeling of Merlin’s magic a soothing balm on his frayed nerves.

“I’m glad you’re here with me, and that I’ve finally done what I should have done all along.”

Merlin smiles. “Arthur,” he shakes his head. “It’ll be all right.”

Arthur swallows with difficulty, unable to think with everything churning in his head like it is.

The ship is large, and he and Merlin sit in their own private compartment.

Merlin has been quiet, deep in his thoughts. He admitted to Arthur earlier that now that Arthur's made his decision about Mantodea, he’s eager to release his people and their powers on the planet in revenge for all they’ve done. Arthur can’t say that he blames him under the circumstances, and he knows that putting it off isn’t easy for Merlin. But he also knows that Merlin is adamant about accompanying Arthur to Earth to release Morgana and deal with Uther. The entire Mantodea subject has been a difficult one, and Arthur feels it would benefit everyone to call a council and talk before doing anything drastic.

Arthur’s nerves zing with anger and anticipation as they get closer to Earth. He feels like everything inside him has no place to go and realizes that what he wants more than anything at the moment is to be full of Merlin.

Merlin’s magic seems to catch onto Arthur’s feelings immediately and likes the idea; it tingles over Arthur’s skin like fizzy water. Arthur gets up from his seat by the window and crosses to where Merlin sits, kneeling between Merlin’s open knees. He presses small kisses to Merlin’s jaw before pulling back and looking him in the eyes. Arthur watches Merlin’s eyes dilate with need as Arthur brings his fingers up to graze over the crotch of Merlin’s loose pants.

“Arthur?” Merlin breathes.

“This is what I want to do,” Arthur says quietly, staring into Merlin’s blue eyes. “I want to suck you until you’re good and hard, and then I want to sink onto your cock and let you fuck me until I can’t think anymore.”

Merlin’s breath hitches in his chest, and Arthur feels the bulge under his hand jump in reaction to his words.

“Is that okay with you?”

Merlin swallows and nods.

“Good.” Arthur leans up and catches Merlin’s mouth in a heated kiss that’s all tongues before pulling away and tugging Merlin’s trousers down to his ankles.

Merlin’s beautiful cock springs free, the piercing glistening at the head.

“Gods, I love it,” Arthur says reverently, breathing over the silky skin and touching one of the silver balls of the piercing with his finger. Merlin groans, his head falling back.

Arthur licks a stripe up Merlin’s cock, tracing the long vein there, before sucking kisses up the length, pausing just beneath the head to run his nose along it, taking in the heady fragrance of Merlin.

“I could eat you up,” Arthur says hoarsely.

“Then do it,” Merlin invites, pushing his cock into Arthur’s face. Arthur smiles.

“Don’t rush me.” Arthur runs his lips all along Merlin’s cock, breathing on it, feeling Merlin’s reactions. He cups Merlin’s balls with one hand, fondling them gently, while bringing Merlin’s cock forward with the other and tonguing the narrow slit on the head.

Merlin keens, spreading his knees wide. “Fuck, Arthur!”

Arthur pushes the tip of his tongue in, stretching the hole, and Merlin wiggles helplessly in his seat. Arthur sends a stream of spittle running down the slit, pulling Merlin’s cock up to stretch it, the sound of Merlin’s harsh breathing and little grunts of pleasure driving him wild.

“Love your cock, Merlin,” he whispers, taking the head between his lips and sucking at it harshly.

“Shit,” Merlin whimpers, shaky hands finding Arthur’s shoulders and squeezing them.

Arthur takes his mouth off and looks up at Merlin, swirling his tongue around the head of Merlin’s cock, watching Merlin watch him with lust-filled eyes.

Arthur spends some time licking the piercing before laving Merlin’s entire shaft, wetting it thoroughly. He pulls it up, bringing the heavy ball sac to his mouth and sucking half of it in, enjoying the feeling of the crepey skin on his tongue. Merlin shivers and moans, his legs pressing against Arthur encouragingly, the coarse hair on his thighs tickling Arthur’s arms. Arthur leans further down and licks at the soft skin under Merlin’s sac, pressing his tongue firmly to it.

“A-Arthur…” Merlin’s legs twitch.

Finally, Arthur lowers his mouth on Merlin, taking him all in until the tip of Merlin’s dick touches his tonsils. He loves the taste of him—slightly salty—and the feel of the hard dick covered by baby-soft skin  filling his mouth. Arthur holds him there, spittle running from his lips and wetting the base of Merlin’s cock, swallowing repeatedly, tongue swirling the underside of the rigid shaft. Merlin cries out, grasping at Arthur’s hair, pushing him down until Arthur gags, tears springing to his eyes.

When Merlin lets go with a murmured, “Sorry,” Arthur doesn’t retreat, but swallows again before bobbing up and down, mouth full of spit, cock tip hitting his throat repeatedly. When he can’t take it anymore, Arthur shifts it to the side of his cheek, letting it hit the crevice between his gums and teeth until finally Merlin stops him by pulling up on Arthur’s hair.

“If you want that fuck,” he breathes, “better do it now.”

Arthur stands on shaky legs, looking at Merlin’s disheveled form—pants about the ankles, chest heaving, slippery red cock touching his abs—while he quickly shucks his clothing. Merlin lifts a finger and Arthur gasps as he feels warm, wet slick coat him inside his arse.

He turns around, watching Merlin kick his shoes and pants off before easing down onto his lap, feeling Merlin positioning himself at Arthur’s hole.

The burn is excruciatingly good, and Arthur groans, wiggling a little on the long way down, the piercing dragging along his inner tissue until it hits Arthur’s prostate, making him moan. He looks down at his own hard, leaking cock as he fully seats himself against Merlin, and Merlin’s hands come up, gentle, nimble fingers seeking Arthur’s sensitive nipples and pinching.

Arthur gasps and starts to rock, hands on the arms of the chair, knowing he won’t last long. His eyes roam forward and catch the reflection in the window, his flushed skin, hair sticking up, long dick waving in the air as Merlin begins to cant his hips upward to meet him.

The room soon fills with noises of their coupling—harsh breathing and hoarse cries of pleasure. Arthur wonders if the others are listening to them, and the thought abruptly brings him over the top, squirting white spunk repeatedly into the air.

“Oh, fuck!” Merlin cries out as Arthur’s inner muscles squeeze around him. He clenches his teeth and pounds into Arthur ferociously before shaking apart and sagging back in the chair.

Arthur’s limbs shake and he has to roll off onto the floor rather than stand.

“That was some tension releaser,” Merlin says, curling up next to Arthur on the floor and summoning them some pillows to lean on. They gaze out the window at the stars whizzing by in black space, and Arthur moans when he feels Merlin touch where his cum dribbles out of Arthur’s body, long fingers swirling around his sensitive rim.

“I do feel better,” he smiles. “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” Merlin kisses Arthur’s neck, moving his hand and wrapping his arms around him to hug him tightly, tucking his chin into Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur plays with Merlin’s fingers where they rest on his chest.

“I love you, Merlin,” he says. “I love you.” He laces their fingers together. He feels Merlin’s kiss on his shoulder and repeats, “I love you,” again softly just because it’s true.


	47. Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Morgana's thoughts are slightly dark.

Nimueh lies in the cot of her room on the ship headed for Earth petting Tabitha, listening to the cat contentedly purring. When she learned that a group planned to travel to Earth in order to rescue Morgana and some others, she immediately volunteered to go. She’d like nothing better than to help bring Uther down, and she’s frankly tired of hanging around on Iam doing nothing but helping construct things. The city’s shaping up beautifully, but she’s bored.

As a powerful witch, it’s been difficult to sit back and watch Merlin take his seat as leader of her people; yet, like all others of pure Hekanian blood, Nimueh has long waited to find him. Merlin hasn’t exactly grabbed hold of the reins with both hands, but he’s gradually settled in. It hasn’t helped that the part of his soul bond with his true beloved that could be tampered with was abruptly ripped away—Nimueh could have gone over to that planet of insects and dragged Arthur to Iam by the ear when that happened. What was he thinking? How could someone spawned by _Uther Pendragon_ have such noble ideals? Scratching behind Tabitha’s ears, she considers the possibility that she may have fucked him up by giving him those vitamins all these years.

But all seems to be right with the universe at this point. If Merlin could just get his nose out of Arthur’s dick long enough to become the prince he’s meant to be and Arthur could grow a bigger pair of balls and defeat his idiot father.

She sighs. _Men._

Even now she can hear them fucking like bunnies in the next room. Hell, the whole ship can hear them. It really isn’t too surprising that Arthur gave in once he was in Merlin’s presence again; the soul bond is a strong thing, after all, and not to be taken lightly. It’s too bad that there wasn’t time to unite them properly before moving ahead with anything else--the two of them won’t be thinking clearly until there’s a Hekanian ceremony. As a high priestess, Nimueh can only imagine the intense longing they must feel. She chuckles softly at the very idea of Arthur Pendragon fighting the urge to be dominated by another man in front of the magical community.

***

Uther sits at his desk at _Pendragon_ , surveying the city of Camelot from his wall-to-wall windows. It’s beginning to look like a bustling city again, thanks to a little PR work on his part. He smiles, leaning back in his plush leather chair. In just under a week, he’s managed to do so much. He really is a fucking genius.

And at home, in his little country cottage, his daughter and Gwen await him every night. And Cenred, of course.

“Video call has gone through, sir,” his secretary tells him.

“Thank you, John.” Uther turns to the screen to see Frederick’s face flickering before coming to a clear picture. Behind him stands his consort—Uther can’t be bothered to remember the man’s name.

“Frederick,” Uther says. “I hope you are well.”

Frederick gives a curt nod. “As well as to be expected.”

“And my son?” Uther asks, lighting a cigar. “How is Arthur fairing on your planet?”

Frederick scowls. “First of all, you have some nerve calling me, Pendragon. After what you pulled---my workers were barely fed enough to keep them healthy for their entire lifespan.”

“Not my fault,” Uther tells him, flicking ash into a gold tray. “Circumstances got out of hand.”

“Because of your devious son! Whom you foisted on my son!”

“Peter insisted upon having Arthur,” Uther reminds him.

Frederick mumbles to himself. “Yes, he’s headstrong. The heart wants what it wants.”

“Where is Arthur?” Uther asks, leaning forward. “I want to see him.”

“He insisted on visiting that warlock he fraternized with, and Peter went with him.”

Uther’s blood runs cold. Arthur should be where he’s supposed to be, not flying all over the universe, and _not_ consorting with magic-users! “What? Where?”

“I don’t know the planet. Arthur wouldn’t say. Probably afraid I’d take my workers over there and finish feeding them.” Frederick smirks. “And he’s right about that.”

“Have Arthur and Peter been united?” Uther asks.

“Not yet.”

“Have Arthur contact me upon his return,” Uther orders.

“I’m not your servant,” Frederick scoffs, “and frankly, neither is your son. I highly doubt he’ll want to call you.” The screen blanks out, and Uther curses.

What the hell is Arthur playing at?

***

Leon lands the ship in Tintagel, which they find to be deserted, no one of non-magical origins wanting to disturb the place.

“Arthur, are you all right?” he asks his friend.

“I’m fine,” Arthur says. There’s a fine sheen of sweat of his forehead, and every muscle in Arthur’s body is tense. “Just…well, this isn’t exactly easy, Leon.”

“I know that,” Leon says, bending to wash his face in the sink of the house they’ve chosen to use as a temporary headquarters. “But it’s like…you’re in heat or something.”

Arthur’s mouth falls open. “What? Oh, come on!”

Nimueh’s laugh tinkles from behind them. “That’s exactly what he is,” she says, walking in with her cat cradled in her pale arms. “And he will be until his union with Merlin.”

Arthur pales, and Leon can just imagine what he’s thinking—when will his life ever be his own?

Leon dries his face and straightens his shirt. Placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, he squeezes it reassuringly. “All will be right soon enough, my friend,” he tells him. “I’ll help you see this through.”

Arthur nods at him gratefully, setting his jaw.

“You’ve helped me fight a few battles yourself,” Leon reminds him.

“Before I became such a mess,” Arthur says, reaching up to loosen his collar. “Leon, I’ve got to find my sister. She’s our top priority.”

Leon nods. “I know, mate.” He walks by the small room where Merlin lies napping, his own reserves evidently needing recharging, and finds Will in the bathroom showering. Leon taps on the glass, and Will sticks his head out.

“Want a sandwich?” Leon asks, leaning against the wall.

“How about two?” Will tries, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and turning off the water.

“I suppose that can be arranged.” Leon steps back as Will opens the shower door and stands nude and dripping, lean body somehow managing to look manly and boyishly sexy at the same time. He hands Will a towel, watching as he dries off.

“You going to go make me those sandwiches?” Will asks when he finishes. He stands with hands on hips and a challenge in his eyes. Leon’s eyes rake over him.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says, turning to leave. Will reaches out and grabs Leon’s arm, stopping him, and Leon can’t hide his smile as the hand moves upward to press over Leon’s chest. Will’s breath comes hot in his ear.

“Unless…you want to take a little break first.”

Leon feels Will pressing up against him from behind.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” Leon asks, suppressing a shudder as Will runs his fingernail over a sensitive nipple.

“What do you think?” Will bites Leon’s earlobe sharply, drawing a gasp from him.

“All right, then,” Leon agrees breathlessly.

***

Morgana has never hated anyone as much as she hates her father. And at the moment, she hates Gwen, too. How Gwen could have slept with Uther…conceived his child…is beyond Morgana. Oh, she knows all about Gwen’s mission to get information, but that doesn’t matter. Not in the face of the evil Uther’s done. Nothing matters except the fact that Morgause is gone and the gaping hole she’s left in Morgana’s life.

Oh, why did Morgana ever trust his word in the first place? Why didn’t she just kill him when she had the chance?

That morning Morgana stuck her breakfast fork in Cenred’s hand, and now she’s paying for it by lying tied to the bed, having eaten nothing all day. The night before she’d lain awake listening to Gwen with Uther—how she initially resisted him but then given in---wanting to throw up, or better yet, go in and throttle both Gwen and Uther to death. She’d gotten the distinct impression that Cenred was in there watching, although she couldn’t be sure. Morgana desperately wishes she had her magic so she could unleash it in fiery fury on everyone and everything around her.

The door to her bedroom opens, and Morgana tenses, pulling on the ropes at her wrists and ankles. She wouldn’t put it past Cenred to come in and sexually assault her---although she’s not sure she’d care at this point. She’s really past caring what happens to her. She wants to die. _After_ she kills Uther.

When Gwen’s face peers at her around the doorframe, Morgana sneers.

“What do you want?”

Gwen walks in, shutting the door gently behind her.

“I’m sorry you’re tied up,” she says. “I asked Cenred if I can untie you. He said I could.” Gwen comes forward and begins picking at the knots in the rope.

“Did you have to blow him first?” Morgana asks.

She wants to punch Gwen. She imagines doing it, and the surprise on Gwen’s face when she does.

“I know you think I’m awful,” Gwen says softly, surprising Morgana. “I think I’m awful, too.” Tears spring to the girl’s eyes. “I hate myself.” Her voice clogs with them and she chokes. Morgana’s hands are free, but instead of punching Gwen, she sits up and unties her ankles.

Gwen pulls some bread out of her pocket. “Here. I saved you this. I’m glad you forked Cenred’s hand.”

Morgana can’t help but smile a little as she takes the bread and stuffs it in her mouth.


	48. Unexpected Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.  
> Go see the wonderful fanart texasislandr did for my Reel Merlin fic! She's awesome. Be sure to leave her lots of love.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1160906

Uther’s leaving his office when an unfamiliar voice stops him.

“Uther Pendragon, I presume?”

Uther turns, eyes raking over the woman standing behind him. She’s only slightly younger than he is, with sharp eyes and dark turquoise hair twisted into ropes around her head. There’s something regal in the way she holds herself, and Uther feels he should recognize her.

“Do I know you?” he asks, chin lifting slightly.

“We’ve never had the pleasure,” the woman says. She puts out her hand. “I’m Catrina, Regentess of Skriat.”

Uther’s tries to hide his flash of surprise and eagerness as he thinks of the piles of bills lying on his desk on the other side of the door. He takes her proffered hand and kisses it, lingering perhaps a bit too long, eyes glued to the large emerald on her ring finger.

“Of course. Forgive me. I’ve had a long, trying day.”

“If my information is correct, you’ve had a long, trying _month_ ,” Catrina replies, lifting a narrow brow, her full lips, painted a fetching blue to match her hair, moving into a half-smile.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Uther tells her. “There are some crazy rumours going around. I was just on my way to my city flat,” he lies. “Would you like to accompany me for a drink?” Uther is a bit surprised that the Regentess herself would come to deliver his money, but now that he thinks about it, he seems to recall hearing that she wears the pants in the family, her mate mostly being for ornamental purposes and egg carrying.

“That sounds refreshing,” Catrina answers, turning and allowing Uther to escort her to the lifts.

“I hope you’ll forgive me the surprise visit,” Catrina tells Uther on the way down to the lobby of _Pendragon._ “I just had to make sure that my mate didn’t fall for a pretty face and not get the proper information when he promised you monetary help.”

“He spoke to my daughter,” Uther replies, standing back to allow Catrina to walk ahead of him. “She is quite beautiful, and it’s obvious he has good taste in women.” His eyes move to the two round globes of Catrina’s arse, sliding beneath the silk skirt of her dress as she walks.

Catrina laughs, an almost harsh sound. “I’ve heard you’re a real womanizer,” Catrina replies, and Uther jerks his eyes up to see she’s watching him, hand on the double glass doors.

“I appreciate a beautiful woman,” Uther corrects.

“As well as a beautiful man?” Catrina questions with a smirk, and Uther nods, following her outside where his limo driver is waiting. He’s glad that the clean-up of Camelot was completed yesterday, and Catrina can’t see the damage done by the insectoids. He isn’t sure how he could have explained that. He has a mountain of bills requiring payment, and he fervently hopes the woman brought Earth money with her.

The Regentess slides smoothly onto the leather seat, and Uther sits beside her, purposely aligning their legs so that their thighs brush together. The driver closing the door, blocking the cold wind. Catrina smells of exotic flowers, and Uther takes a large breath of it.

“I’ve never smelled anything quite like your perfume,” he tells her. “Delicious.”

“It’s not perfume,” she says. “It’s my natural scent. Everyone on Skriat has a distinct odor.” Her mouth curves upward. “I’m happy to hear that you enjoy mine.”

“Intoxicating,” Uther says, meaning it. He rather wishes he hadn’t sat so close to her; the heady scent is making him light-headed; but it would be rude to move away now.

“My husband tells me your daughter has magic?” Catrina says, folding her hands together. Her fingernails are painted to coordinate with her hair and lipstick. Uther’s eyes run over her long, slender legs, crossed at the delicate ankles. She’s very well put together, which he appreciates.

“Yes,” he replies evenly.

“Will I meet her at your flat?”

“Er, no. Morgana resides at my country house. I didn’t plan on driving there tonight, having a meeting early in the morning.” Uther reaches up and loosens his scarlet red tie.

Catrina’s dark eyes run over him. “What about your son…Arthur, is it?”

“Arthur is being united to the Prince of Mantodea. He’s there now, preparing for the union.”

“How every…exciting,” Catrina says. “Mantodea? What an odd choice. Although I’ve heard the workers there are very tasty. I believe I had one roasted at my union feast.”

Uther raises a sardonic brow and repeats Frederick’s earlier words. “The heart wants what it wants,” and shrugs.

“Indeed,” Catrina says.

The limo pulls up in front of Uther’s building, and he slides out of the car, coming around to open Catrina’s door. On the way up to the penthouse, Catrina looks out the glass lift at the city of Camelot.

“Beautiful,” she breathes. “So different from Skriat.”

“I have never had the pleasure of visiting your planet,” Uther says, thinking he never plans to, either. By all accounts, Skriat is a garish place. Plus he’d have to bring oxygen with him, which would just be a pain. The thought reminds him that Catrina has gills, and he wonders what they look like. He’s never seen a Skriat woman naked. He knows very little about the planet, really, although they’ve been allies of Earth for years. Agravaine made a diplomatic trip there once. He said something about the people spending seventy percent of their time in water, or some such. _Where is Agravaine, anyway?_

“We don’t get too many humans,” Catrina interrupts Uther’s thoughts, and the lift stops, the doors sliding open almost silently to reveal Uther’s door.

“My, my,” Catrina says when they enter the penthouse flat, setting her rather large turquoise bag on the floor and looking around. “Such opulence. My people live much more simply.”

“Simply?” Uther asks. “I’m sorry, but that isn’t what I’ve heard.”

Catrina laughs. “True. We do like colourful gems--our caves are covered in them. But we don’t have all the extra _things._ ”

Uther removes his suit coat after taking Catrina’s short jacket, hanging them both on the hall tree. He crosses to the bar. “Drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Catrina sits, crossing her legs at the ankles, moving her feet off to the side.

He brings her a strong bourbon, watching her drink half of it in one go. A moment later, she slips off her high heels.

“Do you mind?” she asks. “My feet hurt. I’m not accustomed to dressing like this.”

“No problem,” Uther says. “I like to get comfortable myself.” He slips out of his own shoes and removes his tie, unbuttoning his shirt a few buttons. His eyes are drawn to Catrina’s feet---he notices that the toes are webbed.

Catrina sips more slowly at her bourbon, eyes taking in everything in Uther’s large living area. They alight on a photo of Arthur and Morgana.

“Your children?” she asks, and Uther nods. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you. Do you have children?” Uther asks politely.

“Seven,” Catrina replies. My husband is carrying my eggs right now. We will have another hatching in a month or so.”

“Congratulations,” Uther murmurs into his drink.

“Uther,” Catrina says presently, putting her glass down and flexing her webbed toes. “What exactly do you need the exorbitant amount of money you asked my husband for?”

Uther casts about in his mind for an answer that will impress her.

“We’ve had some unexpected and debilitating pollution of our seas,” he tells her soberly. “Many of our aquatic life are suffering and are threatened with extinction, which we frankly just can’t afford. Earth has already suffered so much with its harsh climactic changes over the past century.”

Catrina’s mouth turns down. “How awful! How did this pollution come about?”

“Er, a careless business dumping their waste—they’ve been taken care of,” Uther struggles with the lie, fingers moving to unbutton his shirt to the navel. “Do you think it’s hot in here?” He’s relieved to find that Catrina is not immune to his charms, her eyes pinning to his broad chest. She wiggles in her seat, body language telling him she likes what she sees.

“A bit,” she says. “Although I’m afraid what I need is some…wet.”

“Pardon me?” Uther asks.

Catrina’s harsh laugh fills the room. “I’m from Skriat, remember. I’m unaccustomed to being on dry land for this long, and it took a day’s journey to get here.”

“Oh…yes, of course. How can I help you?” Uther thinks of the pool on the roof, and tells her about it.

“No, no. That won’t be necessary,” Catrina stands. “A bathtub will do. You have one of those, I assume?”

“Definitely,” Uther gets to his feet and leads her to the bathroom with its large, deep tub.

“Perfect,” Catrina tells him, turning her back to him and peering over one shoulder with dark, inviting eyes. “Will you unzip me, please? Perhaps we can continue our conversation in the water.”

Uther swallows and nods, taking the zipper at the top of her dress and tugging it down, slowly revealing the curve of Catrina’s pale back and the top of her arse.

The heady floral scent is strong as Catrina unselfconsciously steps out of her dress and moves to the faucets, turning them on and testing the water. Uther watches, fascinated, as her skin turns to iridescent scales as the water hits it.

Catrina isn’t young, but her body is firm and pleasing to the eye, particularly covered in the shiny scales. As he removes his shirt, tossing it aside, he catches a glimpse of one of her gills, a barely noticeable slit in her side. Uther goes to retrieve the bourbon and places it on a tray near the tub. Catrina sinks down into the water as Uther strips off the rest of his clothing and joins her.

“Oh! A bit cold,” he almost squeaks, shivering. Catrina laughs, taking her glass from his hand.

“Yes, I prefer it that way.”

Uther doesn’t care for the way it makes his manhood shrivel up, and he thinks maybe Catrina finds that a plus; she seems to enjoy putting him on the defensive.

Reaching up, Catrina lets down her long coils of turquoise hair. They must reach well below her waist, for they float on top of the water like colourful seaweed.

“Cigarette?” Uther offers her his gold case, and she takes one. He leans forward, lighting it for her, his eyes glued to where her hair moves away from her small, almost boyish breasts, the nipples a ruddy brown.

“I would think an accomplished man like you would be a universal traveler,” Catrina says, taking a drag off the cigarette and tucking one foot underneath herself.

“I’ve been a few places, but ruling Camelot keeps me busy,” Uther tells her. “Do you do much traveling?”

“A bit,” Catrina replies, drinking her bourbon. “A very good friend of mine lives on Tantra. My mate and I like to vacation there. Have you been?”

“I have,” Uther nods.

“Every man has who is able to travel, I’m sure,” Catrina smiles. “My mate certainly enjoys it. I let him have his fun while I visit with my friend.”

“Very magnanimous of you,” Uther smiles. “He’s a lucky man.”

“Yes, well, I’m lucky to have him, too. Sid is very virile,” Catrina replies, flicking her ashes onto the tray nearest her arm. “We have a very open relationship.”

“So I would assume,” Uther replies with a gesture between them. “Either that, or you enjoy cuckolding your mate.”

Catrina’s eyes narrow. “Sitting naked in a tub of water does not a sexual liaison make, Mr. Pendragon. At least not on my planet, it doesn’t.”

“I can assure you that it most certainly does on mine,” Uther tells her with a smirk. “But I understand if that is not your intention.”

“Oh,” Catrina leans back to put her cigarette out and moves toward him. “I wouldn’t go that far.” She smiles and dips her head under the surface, proceeding to show Uther the advantages of being able to breathe underwater as he grips the sides of the porcelain tub and throws his head back with a moan.

 

***

Arthur finds that now that he has his bond with Merlin again, he can think more clearly when he’s away from the sorcerer. With this in mind, they split up, Arthur taking Nimueh and Leon with him and Merlin taking Will, Sabra, and Mordred. The latter group heads to _Pendragon_ while Arthur’s goes to the manor, which they find to be vacant of anyone except Gaius and Alice.

“Have you spoken with Father, Gaius?” Arthur asks, pocketing his laser gun and standing in the middle of the sitting room where Gaius and Alice sit in front of a roaring fire having tea.

“Not since it all happened, Arthur. I don’t think your father wishes to stay here.”

Alice nods her head. “He’s with that Cenred fellow, though. I saw them together when they came to get Cenred’s things.”

“Do you think they’ve gone to his flat?” Arthur asks.

“Perhaps,” Gaius replies. “I know from my nephew Roger than he’s been at _Pendragon_ every day this week. However, Roger has said Uther’s been coming in late. It makes me wonder if he doesn’t have somewhat of a commute.”

Arthur thinks about this. If his father is keeping Morgana against her will…

“The country house. Of course,” Arthur says. “It’s warded against magic.” He sets his jaw.

“Arthur, what are you going to do?” Gaius asks.

“Anything I have to in order to free Morgana and the others,” Arthur replies.

“Mr. Rivers and his friends searched the basements here thoroughly looking for their friends. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help—I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Miss Montgomery or Morgause. Do you think they’re all right?” Alice worries her lip, eyes darting between Arthur and Leon.

“I hope so, Alice,” Arthur smiles at the older woman before turning to Leon and Nimueh.

Once outide, Nimueh says caustically, “I’m sure Uther did away with Freya and Morgause as soon as he got hold of them.”

Arthur winces, thinking of sweet Freya and all she’s done for him, and of how terribly torn up Morgana would be about Morgause.

“The man is evil,” Nimueh seethes. “Where is this country house? I never knew about it.”

“About an hour out of the city,” Arthur tells her. His telroid buzzes and he takes it out of his pocket, reading the screen.

“Merlin says Uther isn’t at _Pendragon,_ but they’ve met up with Gwaine and some others.” He begins typing. “I’m telling them we’re heading out to the country house. They can meet us there.”

***

Uther rolls over in his large bed, watching Catrina as she sleeps. She lies sprawled beside him, sheets entwined around her body. The scales disappeared as soon as she left the water, and her skin is a pinkish-white against the red sheets. Her long, bluish ropes of hair fall haphazardly over her body. Uther reaches out with a finger, touching the gill on her side, and she moans quietly in her sleep. He’s found they are erogenous zones which make her cry out in pleasure when he fingers them.

It’s late, and the dim moon shines through his balcony doors onto their naked bodies. Uther’s been sleeping after a heated tumble with Catrina, but he finds he’s ready for another go, his cock hardening at the sight of the exotic woman beside him. Leaning in, he takes one of her small, round nipples in his mouth, sucking gently.

Catrina’s dark eyes flutter open, and she wraps her arm around his neck, pulling his face closer, so that he has to pull in a quick breath through his nostrils before they’re blocked by the flesh of her small bosom. Her scent is enticing, and Uther moans, using his front teeth to elicit a cry from her. He brushes his thumb against the gill closest to him, and Catrina jolts with pleasure. She tugs at Uther’s hair, bringing his mouth up to hers, and they share a deep kiss that soon turns frenzied. Uther quickly climbs atop of her, and she wraps her legs around him, eagerly accepting him into her body. He pushes into her hard, giving her the good fuck he knows she wants.

“Like that?” he growls.

“Ye-ess,” she breathes. “Oh, yes.” It’s deep and fast and Uther smiles when Catrina’s eyes roll up in her head.

Afterward, she sits up in the bed, pulling her heavy hair up off her shoulders and twining it into a complicated knot. Sweat trickles down the long column of her back, and Uther leans over, licking it off her. The phone at Uther’s bedside rings, and she picks it up, handing it to him before heading for the bathroom.

“Hello?” Uther purrs into the receiver, watching her arse swing as she walks.

“Uther, what are you doing at the flat?” Cenred’s voice holds both irritation and a slight edge of something else.

“I was detained by a client,” Uther replies. “I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

“Wonderful. Just leave me alone here with the two witches.”

“For heaven’s sake, Cenred, don’t be dramatic,” Uther sighs. “If you can’t handle two women for the night, you really are a sorry sonovvabitch.”

“Your fucking daughter stabbed me yesterday, if you recall,” Cenred reminds him.

“With her fork,” Uther says.

“It was bloody sharp! Are you fucking someone?” Cenred asks suspiciously. “Hell, Uther, you have a girl here to shag!”

“Cenred, I’m entertaining the Regentess of Skriat.”

“Oh, really,” Cenred drawls sarcastically. “Poor you. Well, I suggest you get here. I just might decide to go out. I never signed up to stay here all the time.”

“There are guards, you know,” Uther tells him. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

There’s a loud click in Uther’s ear as Cenred disconnects the call, and Uther sighs, reaching across his bed to hang up.

When Catrina appears from the bathroom fully clothed, Uther sits up in surprise. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” Catrina fixes her right earring into her ear. “I need to get the next shuttle ship out. Those are running again, aren’t they?”

Uther nods, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Well, if you must.” He grabs his silk robe and slips it over his arms and shoulders, following her into the living area where she grabs up her big bag. She turns and kisses him.

“It’s been fun, Uther.”

“Catrina,” he calls to her as she heads for the door. “There is the matter of the money.”

Catrina stops, door open. “Oh, Uther. I’m afraid not. That’s just too much money for us to be giving out.”

“What? But your mate—“

“Sid’s terrible with money, which is why I’m here.”

“I told you why I need it! It’s a good cause!” Uther strides toward her.

She laughs heartily. “You think I bought that stupid story?” Her dark eyes narrow. “Uther, I know what you did, and I think it’s revolting. Thanks for the fuck, though.” She slams his door in his face.


	49. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who continue to read and comment. <3

Morgana stares at Cenred who stares back at her, eyes calculating. He’s been looking at her that way for the past half hour, but hell if she’s going to say something first. The only sound in the room is the fire crackling and the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Morgana has the odd, brief memory of Uther with his sleeves pushed up, arms resting on the old wooden table in the garage, fixing the inner-workings of that old clock when she was a child. It’s difficult to reconcile with the beast of a man who has had her lover killed and is keeping Morgana and Gwen prisoner now.

“I’ve always wondered about you lesbians,” Cenred finally breaks the silence, tilting his head to the side and regarding her with interest. “Surely you just haven’t had the right man.”

Morgana rolls her eyes. “Gee, never heard that one before.”

Cenred smiles, flashing white teeth, and Gwen fidgits nervously where she sits nearby, staring into the fire.

“Why can’t you just let us go?” Gwen suddenly asks Cenred. “What’s it doing for you keeping us here? Do you really think Uther’s ever going to share any wealth or gain with you? I mean, exactly what are you getting out of this?”

Cenred scratches his stomach, long legs stretched out before him. The fire crackles in the grate, and outside the first snow of the season silently falls, coating the forest around them. The scene would be domestic under other circumstances, Morgana muses distractedly.

“If there’s anything I know about Uther Pendragon, it’s that he always lands on his feet,” Cenred says. “Look how he managed to get money out of that fishy Regent of Skriat.”

“ _I_ did that, thank you very much,” Morgana snaps. “And it was all with lies. Don’t you think they’ll figure that out soon enough and this will all come back to bite you?” Although she tries to appear casual, every muscle in her body tenses, waiting for her chance—any chance at all to lay Cenred out and somehow escape. By her calculations, there are at least six guards stationed outside the house, but there must be a way, and she’ll get out of here if she has to die trying-- Dying would be preferable to being her father’s puppet for the rest of her life.

Turning her head, she peers out the window into the dark night. She awoke that morning from a strange dream involving her brother. Her eyes scan the large mass of shadowed woodland beyond the back porch, wondering if he could be out there, ready to help them. A guard moves in her peripheral vision, rounding the corner of the house, and Morgana turns back to Cenred.

“The wind is bitterly cold. Aren’t you going to offer the guards a hot drink?”

Cenred shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“One of them is your own body guard,” Gwen speaks up. “Don’t you have any feelings?”

“Would you two just pipe down?” Cenred growls. “You make me remember why I usually prefer the company of men. He sinks farther down into the plush chair and leans his head back. Morgana bites her lip, shooting Gwen a look. They sit in silence until the sound of soft snoring fills the air. Quietly Morgana gets up and moves to sit close to Gwen on the settee.

Gwen presses her lips to Morgana’s ear and whispers, “There’s no way we can make it past the guards.” “And there’s no way we’ll be able to tie him properly without waking him. He can easily overpower us. He knows it—that’s why he lets himself fall asleep.”

Morgana sighs, leaning toward Gwen’s ear, pushing curly hair out of the way of her mouth. “Did you hear the call he made to my father? He’s staying at the flat tonight. There must be something we can do—this is our chance!”

Gwen makes a rueful face and looks around.

An odd sound from outside attracts their attention.

“What was that?” Morgana mouths.

Gwen’s eyes widen. Unless Morgana’s mistaken, it very much sounded like a brief cry of pain. Giving Gwen a meaningful look, Morgana stands and slowly reaches for the fire poker.

Another muffled cry and a _thunk_ makes up her mind, and she swiftly raises the poker and brings it down upon Cenred’s nodding head.

Cenred opens his eyes, yowling, and Morgana hits him again, this time knocking him unconscious.

The definite, crackling sound of a laser gun brings both women edging toward the window just before the door crashes open and Leon lowers his foot.

“Always wanted to do that,” he says, eyeing Cenred where he sprawls on the floor.

 “Thank the gods,” Morgana sighs, lowering her arms.

“Come on,” Leon holds out his hand to the two women. “Arthur’s holding them off.”

Without question, Morgana follows him out into the black night, almost running into Nimueh where she stands just outside the door.

“Come on,” Nimueh tells Morgana and Gwen, “I’ll take you to the car. Through the woods here…”

Morgana looks over her shoulder and catches sight of Arthur grappling with one of the guards, but it’s rather obvious he has the upper hand, and Leon’s on his way to help him; so she hurries after Nimueh and Gwen. It’s freezing outside, and neither of the women have their coats. By the time they reach the jeep hidden in a copse some distance from the house, Morgana’s fingers are numb.

“I couldn’t use my magic back there,” Nimueh says, creating a small ball of fire in her hands and hovering it in front of them so they can warm their hands.

“My father had the property warded years ago,” Morgana tells her. She wiggles her fingers and creates her own fire, smiling. “I’ve missed being able to use mine.”

The sound of running feet alert them just before Leon and Arthur climb into the jeep. Arthur turns and looks into the back seat. “You okay?” he asks Morgana and Gwen, eyes worried.

They nod. “He didn’t hurt us,” Morgana assures Arthur, reaching to squeeze his hand. Actually, she’s not exactly certain what was done to Gwen, but whatever it was, it sounded through the walls as though Gwen enjoyed it. She casts a derisive look at the woman, still annoyed by her odd relationship with Uther.

“Where’s Father?” Arthur asks Morgana.

“Staying at his flat tonight,” Morgana answers. “Arthur…” her voice breaks, the pain she feels at the thought of never seeing Morgause again thick and violent in her chest. “He said he killed M-Morgause and Freya.”

Nimueh puts a hand on Morgana’s knee, and Morgana is suddenly reminded that this woman is her aunt. She gives her a tentative, watery smile before looking away.

“I’m so sorry, Morgana,” Arthur says from the front seat.

“How could he?” Morgana bites her lip, holding back a sob.

“How could he do any of the things he’s done?” Arthur asks, voice carefully controlled.

As Leon drives the jeep out of the woods, the nearly full-moon sparkles over freshly fallen snow, making it quite bright once they’re clear of the trees. Up ahead another car has stopped along the side of the road, and Leon slows.

“Who is that?” Gwen asks, alarmed.

“Merlin and the others,” Nimueh tells her.

Morgana watches as Arthur rolls down his window and speaks to Merlin, just catching Merlin’s angry remonstrance about Arthur not waiting for their backup.

Nimueh turns toward Morgana. “What, exactly, is your father up to?”

“Who knows?” Morgana scoffs. “Whatever he can do to stay on top, I suppose.” She watches her brother’s intense conversation with Merlin.  “How did Arthur get here? We’d planned to rescue him from Mantodea before we were taken.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Arthur promises, pulling his head inside and rolling his window back up and signaling Leon to drive on. “First I have to confront Father.”

Morgana’s rage stirs, displacing the grief like fire burning paper. “I want to roast his balls on a stick!” she spits.

“You’ll have to get in line,” Arthur tells her.

Morgana turns in her seat, watching the tail lights of the other car fade into the distance behind them. “Where are they going?”

“To get Cenred and any other survivors,” Arthur replies, checking his laser gun.

Morgana runs her hands over her face, closing her eyes and wishing she were somewhere warm and comfortable with a bottle of whiskey. She just wants to numb the pain. Gwen’s shriek and the sudden jolt of the jeep bring her hands down and her eyes to the road in front of them.

“What is it?” she asks, hearing Nimueh’s gasp.

“Holy shit!” Leon exclaims as Arthur scrambles to his knees in his seat.

Morgana leans to the side, eyes raking the road in front of them. “Is that what I think it is?” Terror, cold and paralyzing, seeps into her veins at the sight of the huge insectoid emerging from the woods in the distance.

“But I thought they were gone!” Gwen cries as Leon passes her a gun over the seat. “And I thought guns were almost useless against them!”

“Here,” Arthur frantically goes through the pockets of his jacket. He passes Gwen a laser pack. “Fuel it with this. Will’s just developed it.”

“Does it work?” Gwen asks, doing as he told her.

“We’re about to find out,” Arthur finishes fueling his own gun, passes a pack to Leon, and leans out the window, aiming at the horrifying thing that stands waving it’s spiked forelegs in the air, antennae beginning to flicker their way.

“It senses our magic,” Nimueh tells Morgana, voice edgy with fear.

“Fuck,” Morgana swallows, sheer terror at the sight of the monster and its shifting mandibles bringing bile to her throat.

Large, bulbous eyes focus on the jeep and Arthur fires, hitting the insectoid’s green underbelly. The thing screams, leaping toward them, and Morgana can’t keep down her subsequent shriek of fright. Arthur fires again, this time at the monster’s head, and it lets out a cry that pierces the eardrums.

“Half its bloody brain is hanging out, and it’s still coming!” Leon spins the wheel of the jeep, slamming his foot to the accelerator as Arthur continues firing out his window, Gwen joining him. The insectoid screams and runs after them, steps faltering.

“Dammit! Stop the jeep!” Arthur orders, and Leon does, but looks at Arthur like he’s mad.

“I can’t take a risk that it will turn and go to the country house,” Arthur explains. “It’s wounded. We can finish it off.”

Leon doesn’t look as sure as Arthur does, but he takes his gun and aims it at the staggering creature.

Morgana tenses in her seat as the insectoid draws closer, falling to its side and waving its legs in the air. It continues to make that horrible sound, and she instinctively covers her ears with her hands to try to block it out.

When Arthur lands a shot to its gut and coils of dark pink intestines begin to spill, the creature finally spasms and stills on the snowy ground. Arthur immediately grabs his telroid and types, heaving a sigh of relief seconds later.

“Arthur?” Morgana leans forward.

“They’re okay,” Arthur tells her, leaning against the jeep. “They’ll be here in a minute.”

“What did Will put into those laser packs?” Gwen stares in wide-eyed wonder at the disemboweled insectoid lying on the ground.

“I believe he said it was an ingredient found in _Raid_ —intensified a thousandfold.” Arthur smiles, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it fucking worked.”

“We just fought that thing with a can of _Raid_?” Leon’s eyes widen and he barks out a laugh. “Fuck me! Remind me to kiss the little bastard for that. He’s a fucking genius!”

“We don’t know if that’s the only one,” Arthur suddenly says, straightening up, and Morgana’s eyes immediately leap to the dark woods.

Nimueh tries casting a discerning trickle of magic through the forest, searching for signs of another creature, but she doesn’t have much luck. When the Range Rover finally appears over the hill and Merlin, Will, Gwaine, Sabra, and Mordred climb out of it, their eyes flicker in abhorred curiosity over the dead insectoid.

“My gods,” Sabra murmurs. “I thought they took them all with them?”

Mordred stares down at the green gunk oozing from the creature’s head. “This one must have been left behind.” He kicks it with his boot. “You know, these things used to eat magical creatures, when such lived in abundance. Mantodea should have taken better care of its resources.”

Morgana shudders and can’t help but glance toward the woods.

“Let’s go before another one of those comes out!”

Merlin looks around them. Raising his hands, he murmurs, _Tóg na crainn ó mo radharc_.

Immediately, all the trees within sight vanish, and Nimueh sucks in a shocked breath.

“No creatures,” Merlin pronounces with a smile as everyone gapes at miles and miles of empty land with only a handful of normal-sized creatures scrambling confusedly away, looking for a place to hide. Merlin goes to stand beside Arthur, eyes raking over him as though to make sure he’s still whole.

“How did you do that?” Nimueh asks, wonderingly.

“I simply vanquished them,” Merlin tells her.

“But all at once? And you still have the energy to stand?” Nimueh’s clearly amazed. Morgana knows her own magic isn’t strong enough to vanquish even two trees together, and evidently Nimueh, priestess that she is, isn’t able to do much more. Morgana looks at Merlin with renewed interest. It must be true what they say about him being powerful--the prince of her people. She’s suddenly awe-struck, and she isn’t the only one. No one seems to be able to take their eyes off Merlin.

“Stop staring at me like I have three heads,” Merlin tells them irritably. “Are we going to Uther’s flat, or will he be at _Pendragon_ by the time we get back to Camelot?”

At the mention of his father’s name, Arthur snaps to attention. The weak sun rises over the land, and Morgana realizes it must be later than she realised.

“ _Pendragon,_ I think,” Arthur answers.  “Gwaine, have everyone else meet us there.”

Gwaine nods, pulling his telroid from his pocket.

“Merlin? Are you going to replace those trees?” Arthur asks with a wry smile. “Those deer over there look like they don’t quite know what to do.”

Merlin glances over his shoulder. “Oh, right.” He lifts his hands.

_In ionad na crainn i ngach n-raidhse._

The forest reappears, and Morgana watches Nimueh bite her lip and blink her dark blue eyes in incredulity.

They climb back into the jeep and head back to Camelot.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin says
> 
> *Take these trees from my sight.
> 
> and
> 
> *Replace the trees in all their abundance.


	50. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL is still a bitch. Sorry for the delay again.

Uther swipes the video monitor off his desk, the disapproving image of the ruler of Syron still visible on its screen.

“How dare these idiots dismiss me like this? I’m a powerful man!” he rages, armpits and back wet with sweat. The man from the technical department who helped Uther conduct the half dozen intergalactic calls scurries from the room with a yelp.

“This is just a setback,” Uther rubs his hands over his face, ignoring the looks he’s getting from the employees outside his office door. He knows he’s heaving like a bull ready to charge and takes a moment to calm himself before slamming the door closed in their startled faces. Tired beyond words, he sinks into his large leather chair. He’s sick of making speeches to the masses, assuring them…lying to them, and not in the good way he’s accustomed to. What is he going to tell them? He has no way of keeping _Pendragon_ afloat now that any chance of financial backing is gone. He wouldn’t put it past that harlot Catrina to have spread the word, effectively ostracizing him from every planet that might have offered him help.

If only he had her in front of him now, he’d ring her scrawny fish neck! How dare she refuse him the money promised him? How dare she blacken his name? The way those rulers talked to him—especially that mealy-mouthed lout from Auroa. Uther clenches his fists, wiping spittle from his mouth with his sleeve and glaring at the video monitor on the floor as though it’s the man himself. He’ll get that one back if it’s the last thing he does. He pours himself a brandy and downs half of it, closing his eyes against the headache building behind them.

The red emergency light on his desk blinks red, and Uther freezes, staring at it a moment before jerking up the phone and jabbing the button for his secretary.

“What the fuck’s going on out there?” he asks tightly.

“The building’s been infiltrated somehow,” Craig answers.  Or is it Clyde? Uther doesn’t know—he’s had three secretaries in as many days. People are leaving the company; Uther suspects rumours have begun to circulate-- probably Catrina’s doing, too, the bitch. “They’re checking on it, sir.”

“Infiltrated? Is everyone around here completely useless?” Uther releases the button and stands, walking around his desk. Loud voices outside cause him to turn back and reach for the drawer where he keeps his gun.

“Where the fuck are those bastard guards?” he murmurs, checking the laser pack and glancing out the window where the newly risen sun weakly shines upon his city. Who would infiltrate his business? Did they think there was something here to steal? _The joke’s on them!_ Manic laughter threatens to bubble up in his throat, and Uther struggles to stifle it.

Stepping away from the desk, Uther moves toward the wall, feeling for the ridge there. Finding it, he presses lightly, and the paneling slides open. He’s just about to step behind it when the office door crashes open.

“Going somewhere, Uther?” The familiar voice freezes Uther in his tracks, and he jerks around, adrenaline pumping.

“Son…”

Arthur stands, laser gun aimed at Uther’s chest. Uther aims back.

“Don’t call me that,” Arthur spits out. “Not after everything you’ve done.” Behind him Leon and that magic-user Arthur’s so fond of crowd the doorway _._

“I thought…”

“You thought I was safely on Mantodea with my Mantoid intended?” Arthur asks, raising a brow. “Sorry, but I’ve somehow managed to come to my senses.”

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” Uther asks, leveling the laser gun at him and wondering if he could possibly shoot him and escape through the wall before Leon or Merlin can do anything. He could take one of the cars in the back, he calculates, and call ahead to Cenred…

“This ends now,” Arthur tells him, rage apparent in every line of his body.

“Arthur, I’ve always wanted the best for you,” Uther stalls, unsure.

“So you drugged me my entire life, using me like your puppet?” Arthur’s finger tightens on the trigger.

“Of course not, Arthur,” Uther softens his voice. “What have these people been telling you?”

“Shut up! Stop lying to me.”

Uther can’t believe it; completely gone is the complacency he’s carefully bred into Arthur with a combination of magical drugs and brainwashing. He tries another tact.

“We can be a family,” he tells Arthur calmly, shifting his features into the compassionate, fatherly face he’s assumed so often with his loyal son. “Morgana is with me on this.”

Arthur shakes his head, jaw clenched and nostrils flared. “More lies. You’ve been keeping her prisoner. Morgana’s free now, and the time has come for this to end!” Arthur aims the gun, and Uther holds his breath, thoughts focused on Arthur’s words. Morgana’s free? Did he find her? At the same time, his brain finally absorbs the thought that his son is about to kill him.

“Arthur,” Merlin suddenly says, stepping forward and putting up a hand radiating magic. “Wait.” Uther knows nothing else.

***

“Merlin, what the hell?” Arthur asks, staring at his father where he stands frozen.

“I’ve only stunned him,” Merlin assures him, striding forward to take the gun out of Uther’s hand. He pockets it and turns to Arthur.

“I was going to kill him!”

“I know; that’s why I did it. Are you sure you want to kill your own father?”

Arthur’s mouth falls open. “Yes, I’m sure! He’s a madman!” Arthur shakes his head. “You hate him! You’ve wanted him dead ever since you set foot in Camelot! Are you saying you want to be the one to kill him?”

Merlin shakes his head and looks over Arthur’s shoulder at Leon, who watches Arthur compassionately.

“I’m saying that we need to think about this,” Merlin tells him.

“He’s a monster, Merlin!” Arthur argues, face red with anger. Merlin can see how tense Arthur is in the rigid way he holds the laser gun, every line of his body held taut.

“Arthur, I know,” Merlin agrees quietly.

Morgana appears in the room, breathless.

“I told you to stay in the car!” Arthur snaps.

“And I said to hell with that!” Morgana answers, staring past them at Uther in his frozen state. “What’s going on?”

“There are alternatives,” Merlin tells Arthur. “For now, let’s take him into custody.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Arthur shakes his head, voice hoarse with pent-up emotion.

Merlin gives a wry smile. “Frankly, I can’t either. But he’s your father, and…fuck. Just give it a little time. You’re so keyed up…” Moving forward, Merlin places a hand on Arthur’s arm, magic automatically moving to comfort him. “You’ve got him, yeah? And Cenred, too. We’ll lock them both up for now.”

After a tense moment of staring at Uther and silently questioning Morgana with his eyes, Arthur nods his agreement. Only then does he lower his arm and relax his grip on the gun.

***

Two days later, Merlin bursts into Arthur’s office at _Pendragon._ Arthur looks up from the papers he just signed and gives Merlin a small smile. With every hour that passes, a weight slowly but surely lifts from his shoulders. He knows he has much left to do, but he’s getting there.

“Where’s the fire?” he asks as Merlin skids to a halt, almost bouncing on his feet. He can be such a child; Arthur can’t help but laugh at him.

“I just spoke to Julian,” Merlin tells him in a rush. “You’ll never believe this! The magic-users have been readying themselves to fight, you know…” Arthur nods, and Merlin continues, “Well, a ship requested permission to land and refuel the other day. The pilot said he’d recently been to Clox galaxy, and he heard that Mantodea’s workers are dying off!”

“What?” Arthur’s heart beats faster, “but why?” It sounds too good to be true.

“I don’t know! But Julian’s looked into it, and by every report, it seems to be true. Peter’s having conniptions in his cell, wanting to be let out.”

“Merlin, perhaps you should get back there sooner rather than later,” Arthur says, standing up. “My aunt is due here from Avalon this afternoon, and it will take me weeks to help her sort everything out here in order to take over _Pendragon._ ”

Merlin swallows, elation dying on his face. “Arthur, are you certain this is what you want?”

“We’ve discussed this,” Arthur says softly, coming around the desk to take Merlin’s hand in his.

“And I want you to be absolutely certain,” Merlin tells him. “You could rule Camelot.” He squeezes Arthur’s hand.

“I want to be with you.”

“Perhaps we could work something out,” Merlin says. “If you want to rule Camelot, maybe…I could spend part of my time here.”

“Merlin, your planet needs its prince, and its prince needs a consort,” Arthur reminds him.

Merlin’s eyes stray away from Arthur’s face. “There is an alternative…”

“What?” Arthur asks, wondering what Merlin could possibly be going to say. “You aren’t going to bring up Jacob, are you?” Hot jealousy twists Arthur’s gut.

“No,” Merlin glances at him. “But…Nimueh came to me yesterday. She said a few things that make some sense.”

Arthur’s immediately suspicious, but forces himself to remain outwardly calm. “Such as?”

Merlin licks his lips, and Arthur can’t help but follow the action with his eyes. It’s getting harder and harder to be near Merlin without feeling the need to be forcefully taken by him. It makes Arthur’s knees weak and his head spin sometimes. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

“She said that with her powerful magic and mine, we’d make a forceful bloodline for Iam. We could unite in convenience in order for you to live the life that you prefer.”

Anger, rich and sudden, envelopes Arthur and he jerks hard on Merlin’s hand. “Stop making decisions for me!” he barks.

Merlin’s eyes widen. “I’m not! I’m only trying to give you an alternative.”

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s hand and runs it through his hair, turning to pace the floor.

“Do you think I want that woman in your bed? As your consort? Taking my place?” he asks agitatedly.  He stops to stare sightlessly at the wall in front of him, back rigid.

“We may be able to have the children without the…sex,” Merlin offers weakly.

“Is this what you want?” Arthur turns on him, eyes stormy and heart aching.

“What? No!” Merlin shakes his head. “Arthur, I want you!”

“Well, you certainly have a funny way of showing it. First you replace me with Jacob and his _kisses_ , and now, when we practically have everything taken care of, you suggest we don’t unite at all and you unite with Nimueh instead!” His face hardens as another thought occurs to him. “Or perhaps a magic-user would make a better consort for the Prince of Iam.”

“Arthur.” Merlin looks truly upset. He steps tentatively toward Arthur, but Arthur moves away, not wanting to be placated.

“I’m tired of everyone trying to make my decisions for me,” he says, a bit petulantly, he knows. But _fuck!_ _It’s so true._

“Arthur,” Merlin says softly from behind him. “Listen to me. There’s nothing in this universe I want more than you as my consort. Please believe me. And if you want it as much as I do, you’ll make me the happiest man alive. I just wanted you to know that you aren’t in any way obligated to my people.”

Arthur sighs, shoulders sagging. He realizes he needs to be perfectly clear. “Merlin, I want to wrap things up here and go back to Iam with you.”

Merlin touches Arthur’s shoulder, and this time Arthur doesn’t pull away. “And if you want to be my consort, but don’t want to carry my children, Nimueh is willing…”

Arthur swings around to face him. “Would you rather have magical children with Nimueh?”

“No!” Merlin grasps both of Arthur’s arms. “Absolutely not!”

Arthur stares into Merlin’s eyes. Finally convinced, he nods. “Then I want to be the one to give them to you,” he says firmly.

Merlin blinks. “You’re sure about this? All of it? Because you know…the union is something that takes place in front of the magical community. Everything we’re feeling right now…it’s all leading up to it. It’s inevitable.” He swallows. “And if you don’t want my children, I might be able to---I don’t know. Find a way…”

“Merlin,” Arthur cuts in impatiently. “I’ve made up my mind. Let’s just get things taken care of so it can happen, shall we?”

A sudden, bright smile bursts onto Merlin’s face, and Arthur feels undeniable love shoot through his heart. Placing a palm on each of Merlin’s sharp cheekbones, he leans in and kisses him firmly. When their tongues tentatively meet, Merlin’s magic bursts all around them.

“Fuck,” Arthur murmurs into the kiss. “I want you so much.” It’s true. At that moment, he wants Merlin inside him so badly, he doesn’t care how it happens, and that feeling just seems to intensify every time they’re together.

Merlin nods, pulling away. “Me, too.” He stares at Arthur, and Arthur can feel his need. “I’m going to have to get back to Iam, and you’re going to have to finish things here. And then…” Merlin smiles a little giddily, and Arthur can’t help mirroring the smile.

“And then we can be together,” Arthur finishes quietly.

***

  
“So, I put the little pellets in the workers’ drinking supply,” Will says, playing with Leon’s fingers, “which is thankfully separate from that of the Mantoids’, because I wouldn’t have wanted to poison Arthur accidentally. I wasn’t sure it would work, though.”

“And they had the insecticide in them? Just like you used in the laser guns?” Leon asks, amazed.

Will nods, a self-satisfied smirk playing about his lips. “It wasn’t easy, mind. Those Mantoids are tricky buggers, and I wasn’t sure the insectoids wouldn’t detect me somehow. I had to sneak about after you fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you let me help you?” Leon demands incredulously.

Will shrugs. “No use getting you into a mess with me, yeah?”

Leon shakes his head. “You’re a genius! And an idiot.” He leans in and kisses Will until Will climbs onto Leon’s lap and presses their groins together, fingers flicking over Leon’s nipples through his thin shirt. Leon groans, pulling Will closer. Will’s been on Iam for two weeks, having returned with Merlin. Leon only just arrived, bringing Morgana and a few others back once they were satisfied that Arthur no longer needed their help at _Pendragon._

“It won’t be long until Arthur’s aunt can take over completely,” Leon tells Will when they pull apart, watching him carefully unbutton Leon’s shirt. Will’s lips are wet from their kisses, and Leon wants to bite them. He pushes up eagerly into Will’s groin, feeling his erection hot against his own.

“Good. Merlin’s going mad here without him,” Will replies, pulling Leon’s shirt open and pressing his lips to the juncture of Leon’s neck and shoulder. Leon sucks in a breath, hands grasping the back of Will’s shirt as he feels teeth nibbling his skin. He grinds upward again.

“What is Merlin doing about Peter?” Leon asks on a groan.

“He’s going to wait for Arthur to make that decision,” Will murmurs into Leon’s neck. “Now less talking and more fucking.”

Leon couldn’t agree more.


	51. Heading for Iam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Things are really hectic for me right now. I hope there are still people interested. Thanks to those who continue to comment faithfully! <3<3 <3

Arthur lies flat on the narrow bed of the small ship, staring up at the muted grey of the ceiling. It’s taken him two months to help his Aunt Verlaine, who is really Uther’s first cousin but has always been called Aunt by Arthur, bring _Pendragon_ to the point that it’s running smoothly again. There is still a lot of money owed, but Arthur’s and Verlaine’s frequent video press conferences have calmed the people enough that creditors have stopped demanding full payment and have accepted contracts to pay on time.

Arthur knows he’s fortunate that Verlaine was willing to take over the company; he’s certain it’s in part due to Verlaine’s disgust with Uther that she agreed to take on something so challenging and fraught with potential avenues for failure. Once close enough to be siblings, the cousins gradually distanced themselves over the years as Uther’s affairs and lust for power took him over. Arthur has found a surprising confidant in his aunt, who has helped him work out some of his feelings of anger and betrayal toward his father, whom Arthur handed over to newly appointed Camelot authorities for them to deal with. He currently resides in a prison cell, along with Cenred, and awaits trial.

Arthur is content that _Pendragon_ and Camelot are in good hands, and that the rest of Earth no longer believes any of his father’s lies. Morgana’s been a big help by way of video meetings from Iam, throwing herself into the rejuvenating of the company, and Arthur’s glad that she has something to occupy her mind and relieve her pain. The few times he’s been able to have a private conversation with Merlin by video, he’s told Arthur that Morgana is slowly healing.

“She’s made the palace her special project,” he told Arthur two weeks ago. “She insists we must have a proper love nest after our union.” Merlin’s voice was teasing, and Arthur recalls how hard he got from listening to him say those words; he’d had to find a private place to wank after ending the call.

Arthur’s pleased his sister is recovering from her intense grief over losing Morgause. He hopes that his surprise passenger will go even further in helping her.

Now, finally less than eight hours from Iam and Merlin, Arthur finds himself unable to sleep. He hasn’t slept well since Merlin left, truth be told. Their bond is strong, but it isn’t just that—Arthur misses Merlin’s smile; his laugh; his gorgeous mouth in general. He misses the way Merlin’s eyes twinkle with happiness when he sees Arthur, then flicker with something more when that inexplicable pull between them draws them closer. He misses talking to him about anything and everything, and just their quiet moments together.

Arthur reaches out in the darkness for Merlin’s magic, and it immediately comes to him, wrapping around him like a blanket, soothing him. He closes his eyes, searching his mind for an image of Merlin, trying to recall every nuance of the man he loves. The sound of even, deep breathing fills his head, and suddenly it’s as though Merlin’s lying there beside Arthur, sleeping peacefully. Soon, Arthur drifts into a gentle sleep himself.

***

Nimueh watches Morgana flit about, adjusting colorful pillows on the large, canopied bed that she’s had brought into the large master bedroom of the palace.

“Why do you look like you’ve swallowed a sour passion-button from Asa’s garden vine?” Morgana asks, eyes merry as she takes in her aunt’s countenance.

Nimueh blinks, her expression smoothing out. “I didn’t mean to. I was only thinking about something.” Inwardly, she chastises herself--she’s usually more careful about letting her feelings show.

Morgana finishes what she’s doing and looks around, pleased. “I’m finally finished, and if those two don’t like it, well…they can just do what they want with it.”

“I’m sure they won’t even notice,” Nimueh says. “Men rarely do.”

Morgana laughs. “You’re probably right, but _I’m_ satisfied. Would you like to have some lunch with me?”

Nimueh smiles at her niece. “No, thank you. You go ahead.” She stares pensively at the bed she should be sharing with Merlin. They are the two most powerful magic-users on Iam, and Merlin is going to unite with _Arthur._ It’s a terrible waste. Nimueh has tried to persuade Merlin—she’s talked until her voice is hoarse. But Merlin won’t be swayed. If only he would listen to reason. She’s going to have to speak to Arthur when he arrives. The people of Iam deserve to have two strong magic-users as their rulers. The children they would create together would fortify the royal line for the future. It all makes such good sense!

In frustration, Nimueh explodes a nearby lamp, sending shards of glass everywhere. Morgana immediately appears in the doorway.

“What happened?”

Nimueh gets to her feet. “I’m sorry—an accident.” She waves her hand, and the mess disappears. “Perhaps a magical light will work better, anyway.” She conjures up a deep pink orb to float in the corner, and Morgana nods her head approvingly.

“You’re right. That’s beautiful, Aunt.” She smiles and disappears down the hall.

Morgana seeks out Asa, in the garden.

“Do you have plenty of vegetables for dinner tonight?” she asks the old gardener. “My brother loves a good salad.”

Asa smiles, showing where he’s missing several teeth. “Yes, Miss Morgana. Our future consort will have only the best from my garden.”

“Thank you,” Morgana smiles brightly, and moves toward the kitchen where Sabra is making sandwiches.

“It’s nice to see that bright smile on your face,” Sabra hands Morgana a sandwich and bites into one herself.

Morgana sits down at the table. “It’s nice to be able to smile.” She sighs. “I miss her so much. But it is getting a little easier with each day that passes. I’m excited that my brother will be here today—both for myself, and for Merlin. He’s been a wreck.”

“Tell me about it,” Sabra says wryly. “He’s been pretty useless these past few days, walking about in a fog.” She shakes her head. “Can you believe that he’s been totally uninterested in sex his entire life until your brother came into the picture?”

Morgana makes a face. “I don’t know if I care to think about that, but yeah. It’s pretty crazy stuff.”

Sabra laughs. “These days all you have to do is mention the name _Arthur_ , and Merlin gets hard.”

Morgana chokes on her sandwich and makes a face. “You’re exaggerating, of course.”

Sabra shakes her head. “Afraid not. It’s that bad. Their soul bond must be very strong. I’ve heard about such, but I thought it was all legend. And add a magical bond to that…wow. Hot stuff. Plus, the two of them seem to genuinely be in love.”

Merlin walks into the room at that moment, making straight for the pile of sandwiches.

“Sabra, you’re wonderful,” he says, choosing a chicken and lettuce sub and eating half of it while searching for a drink in the refrigerator.

Sabra winks at Morgana. “Merlin, what time will Arthur arrive?”

Merlin’s shoulders twitch and he takes a deep breath. “Any time,” he answers.

“I’ve finished your bedroom,” Morgana tells him, winking at Sabra. “It’s all ready for the two of you.”

Merlin makes a noise in his throat, and closes the refrigerator door. “That’s…that’s terrific. Thanks. Excuse me, please.” He turns and walks quickly from the room.

Sabra and Morgana break out into peals of laughter.

“Oh, gods!” Morgana wheezes. “The poor guy.”

“We’d better all get out of the way when Arthur’s ship lands,” Sabra says, wiping her eyes with a napkin.

 

***

Merlin heads straight for the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against it, his hand immediately sliding into the front of his loose trousers to cup his throbbing cock.

“Fuck!” he curses, then jumps when Jacob appears from out of the inner room, wiping his hands on a towel. He looks at Merlin standing there with his hand in his pants and raises a curious brow.

Merlin colours, bringing his hand out quickly. The huge bulge in his trousers is difficult to ignore.

“Shit, Jacob…” Merlin moans. “The moment Arthur gets off that ship, I’m going to come in my pants!”

Jacob chuckles, shaking his head.

“It’s not funny!” Merlin really is worried about shooting off in front of everyone. He’s dribbling just thinking about it.

Jacob sobers with effort. “Okay, well…how about you bind yourself up, then? Make it so you can’t come?”

Merlin considers this. “That might be just the thing to do,” he admits. “You’re a genius! But…what with?”

“I have just the thing,” Jacob answers. “I’ve finished my work on the back porch and I’m headed home. I’ll bring you what you need within the hour.”

When Jacob returns, Merlin stares at the metal device with wonder. “It looks like some sort of medieval torture thing.”

“It isn’t,” Jacob assures him. “It will just keep you from getting hard. It won’t be comfortable, mind you, but you won’t pop your nuts in front of everyone when Arthur gets off his ship.”

Just thinking of Arthur disembarking his ship makes Merlin hard. Swallowing, he nods. Jacob briefly tells him how to put it on.

“Why do you have this, may I ask?” Merlin asks before Jacob leaves him to it.

Jacob smiles slyly. “Guess I’m a bit kinky.” He winks and leaves, shutting Merlin’s bedroom door behind him.

Merlin looks down at the weird steel contraption in his hands. “Well, might as well give it a try,” he shrugs.


	52. Iam at Last

Arthur stands on the landing field surveying the city of _Merlin_. Almost everywhere he looks, buildings have appeared where there were none the last time he’d set foot on Iam. The magic-users have been busy.

“It’s quite beautiful,” he tells Leon, who was first to greet him upon landing. The buildings are large and oddly shaped in a way that makes them blend into their natural surroundings, their glass-like surfaces reflecting the woods and trees around them. Arthur can just make out the top of the castle in the distance, it’s royal blue flags waving in the breeze, and butterflies fill his belly at the thought of seeing Merlin again.

Arthur turns to Leon, licking his lips nervously.

“He’s on his way,” Leon tells him with a smile. “They got held up when Merlin became flustered and accidentally locked everyone inside the castle with his magic. He’s been a wreck anticipating your arrival.” Leon’s eyes twinkle with knowledge and Arthur colours.

“Shut up,” he mumbles before turning to the men behind him. “Please take my passenger to hospital. She needs her rest.” The men bow and hurry to help the woman off the ship.

Gwaine and Will pull up outside the fence, tumbling out of the jeep and hurrying across the field, smiles wide on both their faces. Gwaine’s eyes travel to the woman being helped into the small van.

“Is that…” he looks at Arthur, eyes wide.

“Yes,” Arthur says. “We found her wandering about a wooded area not too far from the caverns. She’s completely lost her memory.”

“Oh, gods…” Gwaine whispers. “Where are they taking her?”

“To hospital. She’s quite well, but I’d like her to rest and be checked over after the flight.”

Gwaine nods, still staring after the van.

“Amazing she wasn’t killed,” Will says. “I wonder how she escaped.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Arthur replies. “Unless her memory returns. “I had to tell her everything. She didn’t even know her own name.”

“Fuck me,” Will breathes.

The royal car, a shiny silver limousine, pulls up to the outskirts of the airfield, and Arthur’s heart picks up as he watches Merlin get out, batting away the helpful hand of his driver. Arthur’s knees go weak at the sight of the dark hair and long limbs, and to his horror, he sways a bit on his feet. Leon immediately steadies him, wrapping an arm solidly about Arthur’s waist before quickly withdrawing it again with a cry of pain.

“What the hell was that?” Leon asks, holding his arm, an affronted look on his face.

Arthur, still staring at Merlin as though he could bring him closer by will alone, doesn’t answer.

“Looks like Merlin’s magic doesn’t like you touching Arthur that way,” Will says, bemusedly.

“Would it rather I let him fall to the dirt?” Leon complains, shaking his arm out and wiggling his fingers.

Merlin wastes no time setting off toward them at a run, and Arthur regains his balance in time to move forward several yards, crashing into Merlin in a fierce kiss that feels like manna after starvation. A loud cheer goes up all around them, almost drowning out the buzz of euphoria in Arthur’s ears as Merlin’s mouth moves over his in hungry welcome.

Arthur feels something hard and foreign pressed up against his burgeoning erection, and he peels his lips away from Merlin’s long enough to ask, “What in the hell is that in your pants?”

Merlin gives a shy smile and blushes adorably. “That’s what’s keeping me from shooting spunk at the sight of you,” he says, and Arthur’s cock doubles in size and throbs eagerly in the confines of his pants.

“Gods…” he rasps, clutching Merlin’s soft tunic and fastening his mouth to the delicious, pale neck that’s haunted his dreams for countless nights.

“Arthur…” Merlin groans, trembling in his arms.

A tentative hand touches Arthur’s back, testing as though half-expecting to be burned on contact. “Arthur,” Leon’s voice barely permeates the lust-fog that’s enveloped Arthur’s brain.

“Arthur!” Morgana’s shout cracks Arthur’s concentration just as his tongue finds Merlin’s racing pulse and his hands begin creeping down to cup the tempting arse below the dip of Merlin’s back.

Breath short, Arthur pulls his head up and blinks. Merlin’s fingers dig into Arthur’s biceps, and he suddenly realizes that Merlin’s powerless to regain control over himself. Arthur steels his resolve and straightens, sliding his arm around Merlin’s waist to support him.

“Morgana,” he greets his sister with a slightly addled smile.

She laughs at him, and he’s heartened by it. She looks healthy and well, and he leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. Behind her stands Nimueh, and Arthur stiffens a bit, unable to forget that the woman helped Uther to drug him for years. It also stings to think that she’s lobbied to take his spot as Merlin’s consort. His eyes narrow. She nods at him and says nothing.

Several others step up to greet him before someone makes the suggestion that they get in the limo and head back to the palace. Morgana rattles on about a special salad, but Arthur’s only aware of Merlin’s hand in his and their thighs sliding together as they seat themselves side by side in the car. His heart beats in his ears, and it seems as though he can hear Merlin’s beating along with it, thump for thump, the pulses in their wrists pressed together in Merlin’s lap.

Arthur finds many changes to the palace in the two months that he’s been away. He thinks he would recognize Morgana’s taste for the opulent and colourful even if Merlin hadn’t kept him informed of her foray into decorating.

When he gets a look at what is to be their bedroom, with its deep cerulean, silken bedding and magically mirrored canopy, his prick jerks eagerly in his pants, and he gives Merlin such a hungry look, the air between them seems to charge. Arthur sees Merlin’s eyes flash gold before dilating to almost completely black, fists clenched at his sides as though he’s trying to reign himself in, and the very thought of Merlin pressing him into that decadently thick mattress fills Arthur with such need and desire, he’s limbs shake with it. Arthur makes a sound like an animal in pain, and Merlin steps forward, jaw clenching and hand jerking toward imprisoned cock as though ready to free it.

A gentle hand on Arthur’s arm and a whispered word of magic lightens his yearning a bit, and he’s able to turn from Merlin to look at the old man, Ezzie.

“You are overcome with the heat of a consort for his intended,” Ezzie says, his wrinkled face both pleased and reverent as his fingers clench Arthur’s forearm. “The time of your union is here. We cannot hold it off.”

Lamia and Sabra have joined them, and Arthur sees that they are trying to tug Merlin from the room.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, his voice choked.

“It’s all right,” Arthur tells him, meeting his gaze. “We have to get hold of ourselves, Merlin.”

Merlin swallows, nodding, and quits resisting the women’s efforts. As soon as he’s out of sight, Arthur feels both pain and relief course through him.

“It will be better when you are joined before the community,” Ezzie assures him. “Until then, I think it would be better to separate you. Asa and I have prepared a place for you.”

Alarmed, Arthur looks at Morgana, who asks, “Is that really necessary? They’ve waited so long to be together.”

“The union must take place in the rite of the old ways,” Ezzie answers. “If we leave them together, they will not be able to help themselves. Everything is right for it, and if it is not completed properly,” he shakes his head as though to say all would be lost. “Better to make the union ceremony as soon as possible. We will prepare Arthur in his own rooms. Perhaps you could dine with him there.”

Arthur sees the wisdom in this, as he honestly isn’t sure how much longer he can hold off submitting himself to Merlin. The urge is so strong, it’s a sweet taste upon his tongue and an alluring song in his ears.

He’s led to what amounts to an elaborate red tent at the corner of the spacious garden. He’s given a valet and helped to bathe before Morgana appears with several servants carrying a veritable feast.

When they’re seated, and Arthur’s marveling at the comfort of the green silken trousers and wrap-around tunic, his long legs stretched before him on ecru pillows and his sister propped across from him serving him salad on the low table between them, he finally begins to truly relax. He’s really there, on Iam, ready to unite with his love. A smile begins to creep across his face, and he looks up to find Morgana gazing softly at him.

“You really are happy, aren’t you?” she asks, and he nods.

“I wish the same for you,” he tells her. She looks away, biting her lip.

“It’s getting better,” she says before leaning back on her pillows and sipping her tea.

“I brought someone with me that I’m sure you’ll be happy to see,” Arthur tells her. “Mithian.”

“What?” Morgana’s eyes widen. “But I thought…”

“We all thought she was killed by the insectoids,” Arthur tells her. “But evidently she wasn’t. I don’t know what happened, and she can’t tell us because she’s lost all her memory. She’s completely healthy otherwise, although she did have a concussion and a few lacerations when she was found.”

“Gods! Can I see her?” Morgana asks.

“I’m sure they’ll release her from hospital here,” Arthur says. “I only wanted her to be checked out and get some rest.”

“I can’t believe it. It’s a miracle,” Morgana says, putting her tea cup down, and Arthur can see in her eyes that she’s wishing for another miracle.

“I’m so sorry about Morgause,” he tells her. “And Freya. How’s Uriah?”

“He’s been angry,” Morgana says. “And George left. He went to live on Tantra.”

Arthur nods. “I’m sure he’s devastated.”

Morgana nods. “What are you going to do about Peter?” she asks.

Arthur sighs. He’s been trying not to think about it. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll go speak to him this evening.”

“The ceremony is set for midnight,” Morgana tells him, and Arthur smiles.

“The sooner the better.”

***

Nimueh stares at the man behind the magical bars. He’s handsome, but she can see his true form, and she’s never liked bugs much.

“They are going to be united tonight,” she tells him.

Peter glances over his shoulder at her. “Arthur’s here?”

Nimueh nods, watching Peter’s jaw working and the rigid line of his back. “The ceremony’s at midnight. After that, Arthur belongs to Merlin, and no one will ever be able to do anything about it.”

“Have you come to gloat?” Peter asks, frowning angrily.

Nimueh laughs. “Hardly. Merlin is the most powerful wizard ever encountered. I’m a high priestess. He should be uniting with me, but instead he’s chosen a non-magical man.”

Peter looks at her with interest. “If you aren’t here to gloat, what do you want?”

“What would you do if you were free to walk out of here right now?”

Peter’s eyes narrow. “I’d take what is mine and leave.”

Nimueh smiles. “That’s what I’d hoped you’d say.” With an intense look and a spell that makes her stumble for a moment, the magical bars disappear and Peter is free.


	53. The Dungeons

Arthur escorts Morgana to hospital and leaves her talking quietly with Mithian, who tells Arthur she’s eager to be released. He stops to speak with Elyan, who informs him that Mithian is perfectly healthy and can leave with Morgana if she so chooses. 

Arthur makes his way back to the palace, mind on the task ahead. He doesn’t relish having to speak with Peter. A part of Arthur still feels that he made an agreement with the man and then broke it; but Arthur’s had time to step back and process things clearly, and he now realises that the duress he’s been under, coupled with the lingering effects of a lifetime of brainwashing that compelled him to do what was expected of him, caused him to mistake misguided confusion for altruism.

Arthur isn’t certain that Peter deserves to be in a jail cell, though, and before learning that the workers on Mantodea were dying off, Arthur was uncertain of what to do with him. Peter’s father has no idea where to find his son, and releasing the Mantoid prince to go home and start a war with Iam, no matter how eager the magic-users are to fight for Arthur, wasn’t something Arthur was eager to do. Now that word has it that the workers are all dead, Arthur feels that he can safely release Peter to be escorted home. It’s having to talk with the loathsome man that irks him.

When Arthur reaches the dungeons, dank and dark as any respectable dungeon should be (obviously his sister hasn’t had a hand in the décor of this part of the palace), he’s a little surprised to find Nimueh there visiting Peter. She appears equally surprised to see Arthur, but quickly schools her features.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her. “Did you give him that?”

Peter looks between them, but remains quiet, telroid clutched in his hands.

“He deserves to be able to ease his father’s mind. His people are no threat to us now.” She glances at Peter and their eyes meet. “Peter was overwrought about his father’s state of mind when I arrived.”

“And you came to see him…why?” Arthur asks, stepping closer. Something about this doesn’t add up, and he’s immediately suspicious of Nimueh’s motives.

Nimueh raises her chin. “Merlin asked me to check on him.”

Arthur frowns. He’s been away for two months and isn’t exactly sure where Nimueh stands with Merlin. His own sister seems to trust her, although Arthur knows Morgana desperately wants to believe her aunt has changed. Arthur recalls the day Morgana prepared to leave for Iam. She wept to him, so terribly torn because she felt that she was being disloyal to Arthur by forgiving Nimueh. He’d immediately reassured her that he was fine with her forging a relationship with Nimueh in spite of the past, not wanting her to have any added pain in her life after losing Morgause. Inside, however, he’s always remained suspicious of the high priestess, who seems too eager to switch loyalties when it suits her needs.

“I need to speak with him. Privately,” Arthur tells her. Nimueh looks at Peter again, holding out her hand for her telroid.

“Were you able to reach your father?” she asks him kindly.

“Yes, thank you,” he tells her, and she smiles, eyes flickering over Arthur briefly as she moves past him and out the door.

Arthur looks at the opening of the cell. He knows magical bars separate him from Peter, but it’s disconcerting not being able to see anything between them. His eyes fall on Peter. He hasn’t been neglected; he appears clean and healthy.

“I suppose your father told you what has happened to the workers?” he asks.

Peter’s eyes are steely and cold. “Your doing, I suppose?”

“No. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You’ve gone back on our agreement,” Peter says.

“I never should have made that agreement.”

“It saved many people,” Peter reminds him, coming closer to the edge of his cell.

“I know, but it was unfair of you to ask it of me.” Arthur shakes his head. “This is for the best, Peter. I don’t want to be with you, and you deserve a consort who does.”

“I want _you_ ,” Peter says firmly. “I have since the moment I laid eyes on you. We can be happy together, Arthur.”

Arthur sets his jaw. “It’s not going to happen. I will be united with Merlin tonight.” Just saying the words gives Arthur a tingle of happy anticipation. He wishes Merlin was by his side right then. Every fiber in his being calls out to him, and the small bit of Merlin’s magic that he keeps with him coils around him in comfort.

“We will release you tomorrow and transport you to Mantodea, Peter. This is what I’ve come to tell you. I hope you’ll be able to find someone as consort who will make you happy. I also hope your planet can find a way to support itself without the workers. Perhaps find a way to revive your planet…if you hadn’t depleted your resource of magical creatures, you wouldn’t have had to resort to that heinous agreement with my father.”

“You are no son at all to have gone against your father’s wishes like this,” Peter tells him, dark eyes flashing. “It is a testament to my feelings for you that I still want you after your betrayal of him and of me and my people.”

Arthur sighs. “Be that as it may, I have no feelings for you, Peter. You’ll just have to come to terms with that. This is goodbye--I won’t see you again before your release.” He turns to go, and hear Peter’s words just before pain and darkness fall over him.

“That’s what you think, darling.”

***

Merlin paces his rooms, his dinner left on the table untouched.

“Merlin, get a hold of yourself,” Jacob tells him.

“Within a few mere hours I’m to be united with the man I cherish more than my own life …how can I get ahold of myself?” Merlin asks, raking his hands through his hair and making it stand on end.

Jacob chuckles.

“What are you laughing at?” Merlin asks, exasperatedly. Jacob only laughs harder.

Will enters the room, shutting the door behind him. “I think it’s the way your hair stands on end coupled with the love-sick cow expression in your eyes, mate.”

“Oh, shut it, Will,” Merlin grumbles, going back to his pacing.

“Don’t you have to be all bathed and oiled down or something?” Will asks. “Maybe your dick polished?”

“Soon,” Merlin says. “What’s Arthur doing?”

“He dined with your sisters, your Majesty,” Will makes an elaborate, sweeping bow, causing Jacob to begin laughing again, “and now he is giving his ex-lover the news that he has chosen you over him.”

Merlin scowls. “That over-grown grasshopper already knew that! And he’s _not_ Arthur’s _ex-lover_!” Merlin’s eyes burn gold, and Will takes a step back.

“All right, all right, he isn’t! Of course he isn’t, mate. Calm down!”

Merlin takes a deep breath, his eyes returning to their natural, clear blue. “Sorry. I’m just…nervous, is all.”

“It’s okay. Just get yourself together. Perhaps that bath would be a good idea. Nice, hot, and soothing.”

“I want this contraption off my dick,” Merlin growls, reaching into his pants and fumbling around.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Jacob asks. “What did I tell you?”

“It did,” Merlin answers, pulling the thing off and tossing it onto the bed. “I’d thank you, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”

“Understood,” Jacob grins. His eyes widen as he sees the hard bulge form in Merlin’s pants. “Good grief, man!”

“I can’t help it!” Merlin sighs. “You say Arthur’s in the dungeons?” He looks at Will, who nods. “Who’s gone with him?”

“No one, as far as I know.”

Merlin frowns. “I don’t like that.” He heads for the door.

“Merlin, you have to get ready!”

“I’m going to check on Arthur.” Merlin heads down the hall, his magic becoming more and more agitated with every step he takes.

“Merlin, where are you…” Sabra steps to the side as Merlin sweeps past her, not wanting to waste a moment now that the feeling that Arthur is hurting has become a sore place in his heart. He slams through the doors to the kitchens, taking a shortcut to the outer stairs which he takes two at a time until he reaches the doors to the dungeons. Something stops him, and he takes a second to compose himself, quietly opening the heavy door and slipping inside, pressing himself against the wall and making his way down the stone steps one at a time until he reaches the landing.

He can hear Arthur’s voice, and then Peter’s, and he moves slowly forward, back against the cold, stone wall, stopping when he sees a shape before him. Using his magic, he reaches forward to discern who it is who blocks the passage.

Nimueh.

What is she doing down here, obviously listening in on Arthur’s conversation with Peter? Merlin opens his mouth to confront her when a soft thump accompanied by a twist in Merlin’s gut alerts him that something’s happened to Arthur.

Nimueh simultaneously moves out of Merlin’s line of vision, her voice ringing out in the heightened acoustics of the dungeon.

“Well done, Peter,” she says. “Here, contact your father again, and see if he can get someone here within the hour. Chanda is that close, and there are plenty there who can be paid to pilot you. I’ll help you get Arthur out of the palace and somewhere hidden until they can pick you up.”

Pure and utter rage consumes Merlin like fire, and he steps out into the open to find Arthur laid out on the floor and Nimueh standing next to Peter, who is no longer contained in his cell.

Standing with fists clenched at his sides, barely able to contain his fury, Merlin glares at the man and woman, his magic building inside him to near explosive point. Footsteps alert him to others present, and he raises a hand, about to shoot them back, when he recognizes Leon’s voice.

“What’s going on?”

Nimueh’s face shows fear, and Merlin acknowledges she’s smarter than he thought.

“Shit,” Leon breathes, “Arthur? Merlin, what’s happening?”

“These two think they can take Arthur away from me,” Merlin says, barely recognizing his own voice, fraught as it is with barely controlled anger.

“No…” Nimueh shakes her head, but Peter straightens his back.

“He’s mine,” he states firmly, looking Merlin in the eyes and starting forward.

“You fool!” Nimueh turns on him, then jumps back as Merlin’s eyes flash and he shoots a bolt of flame from his palm, seering Peter to a pile of ashes at her feet.

A hush falls over the room, the group of people that have gathered in the doorway awed and shocked into silence.

“Merlin, it’s not what it looks like…I came to stop h-him,” Nimueh says, voice faltering.

“You lie!” Merlin shouts, veins bulging in his neck and adrenaline born of fear and rage fueling his magic. It swirls in the air around them, tangible and frightening.

“Merlin,” Will’s voice cuts through the burning haze of anger, but Merlin ignores it. Leon seems to want to move forward to check on Arthur but is held back by fear of what Merlin will do next. Part of Merlin marvels at the fact that his friends are afraid at him, while the other part acknowledges the fact that he is the most powerful sorcerer alive and they’d do well not to cross him. He wants to go to Arthur himself, but first he must finish it.

“Nimueh, you have betrayed me and our kind,” he growls, lip curling into a sneer as his eyes pin her in place. “It was bad enough that you played a part in hurting Arthur all these years---for that alone I would kill you, but Arthur would have you live for his sister’s sake. Now you have dared to bring harm to my intended, something I cannot forgive. For that you will die in front of these witnesses.”

“Merlin, I—“ Nimueh can utter nothing else, for Merlin’s eyes glow, his arm extends, her deep blue eyes grow wide, and her hands reach to clutch at her pale throat, feet leaving the floor. Merlin holds her suspended for a moment before flicking his wrist. There’s a terrible cracking sound, and Nimueh sinks to the ground, lying still, eyes staring sightlessly forward.

Merlin lowers his arm, trembling a little with the aftershock of such powerful magic, and turns to where Arthur lies crumbled on the floor. Getting to his knees, he touches Arthur’s forehead, his magic seeking his heartbeat. Will and Leon come to kneel on Arthur’s other side.

“He’s only unconscious,” Merlin says softly after a moment, relief pouring through him. If Arthur had been dead, Merlin would have torn apart Nimueh and Peter’s bodies with his bare hands.

Elyan pushes his way through the crowd, and Leon and Will move aside to make room for him.

Arthur moans, and suddenly Merlin can breathe deeply again. He clasps Arthur’s hand in his as Elyan begins looking him over.

“Merlin?” Arthur opens his eyes.

“I’m right here, love. Everything’s fine.” Merlin’s heart clenches that he’s the first person Arthur wants.

“But…” Arthur blinks, trying to move.

“Lie still,” Elyan orders.

Merlin brings Arthur’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingers. “Just wait a few more moments, Arthur.”

When Elyan finally pronounces him sound, Merlin helps Arthur to his feet.

Leon disperses the crowd, and they start the arduous climb upstairs, Arthur supported between Merlin and Elyan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to note that this work is wrapping up. I know I tend to lengthen things a bit with cliffhangers, but things are really coming to a close soon. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me, even though I haven't been able to update as frequently as possible. This has been a difficult time for me in rl, and I've even had to drop a couple of projects, which I never do.


	54. Union

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has drug on and on. After this chapter, only the epilogue remains. Thanks to those who have stuck with me even though I didn't update as much as I usually do. Special thanks to those who commented. I really appreciate it.
> 
> Warnings: submission and voyeurism with consent.

Merlin insists the union ceremony be put off a few days so Arthur can rest. He spends that time stalking about the palace, giving orders. He sends Julian, along with a group of diplomats and soldiers, to Mantodea to inform Frederick of his son’s treachery and subsequent execution. He instructs him to offer the people of Mantodea help in order to get back onto their feet after the demise of their workers, and to make sure it’s very clear that Iam will not tolerate any move of retaliation on their part.

He ups magical security around the planet in case Peter was able to call for help before he died, and he meets with the elders concerning the up-coming union ceremony. He sends notes to Arthur telling him exactly how much he misses him and longs to be with him.

When the day of their union finally arrives, Merlin finds himself without anything to do for the first time since he struck Peter and Nimueh down in the dungeons. Up until then, he’s been able to channel his energy and restlessness toward preparing, but without anything to do, Merlin’s magic pulls him toward Arthur’s tent. He stands outside its crimson folds, yearning to go in and wrap himself around the man he loves. Merlin can hear the faint hum of ancient chants from the open field beyond the city that has been magically darkened to assimilate night.

“Merlin,” Ezzie calls to him. “Come and get prepared. We will go to the ceremonial field soon; people have already begun to gather.”

With a last look at the tent, Merlin follows Ezzie into the palace where a bath filled with fragrant oils and stinging salts waits for him. He is given a drink made of sour berries that slightly dulls his mind, bringing his senses to the fore. He feels every ripple of water, every grain of salt against his skin, hears the distant chanting more clearly as it compels him to overpower and take. He knows that the Hekian rites have been explained to Arthur—that the drink he will imbibe will not only dull his mind and heighten his senses, but will also give him the urge to flee before submitting, which is in accordance with the will of his magical bond. The ceremony will take on a dream quality, their union strengthened by the sense-heightening properties of the elixir.

When the servants help Merlin from the bath, he’s dried off and his cock, already jutting at a rigid angle from his body, is oiled carefully by nimble hands. The balls on his cock piercing are replaced by magical orbs that will prepare Arthur’s body for impregnation as well as drive him to new heights of ecstasy.

Merlin’s helped into a royal blue robe and slippers. As he walks, his cock peeks through the opening of the robe as though seeking its target, and through the hum of his high, Merlin vaguely hears the elders who escort him speaking in reverent, humorous whispers about its length and girth, along with its piercing. He also hears them talking about how Arthur’s been oiled, his entrance prepared with a special plug. Merlin’s cock twitches, dribbling a bit in anticipation, his blood singing with the knowledge that his mate is near. When they arrive at the outskirts of _Merlin_ where the dividing line between light and darkness lies, they get out of the car and walk toward the field, the grey sky growing darker as they go. Merlin feels a primal pull toward the mating ground, and quickens his pace, the old men trying valiantly to keep up with him.

Across the divide, Merlin spots Arthur wrapped in a scarlet robe, attended by two women. Hundreds of magic-users circle the field, holding torches of fire and continuing the chanting that grows to a crescendo before stopping abruptly, leaving only the wind. Merlin watches as the women remove Arthur’s robe. He stands beautifully nude, his cock and balls bound in wide, crimson ribbon. The women instruct Arthur to get to his knees, and Merlin shrugs off his own robe and slippers and begins walking toward him, mouth suddenly dry at the sight of Arthur kneeling to him. One woman bends and slides the large plug glistening with oil from Arthur’s body, holding it up for the people to see. The two women then back away, melting into the crowd.

When Merlin is within a few feet of Arthur, Arthur suddenly gets to his feet and takes off running. Merlin has been expecting it, but still it comes as a surprise. He goes after him, adrenaline pumping through his body, every molecule inside him shouting, _take, take,_ _take_. With a flying leap, he tackles Arthur to the ground, feeling the air leave Arthur’s body at impact. As the smooth skin of Arthur’s back makes contact with Merlin’s chest and his cock presses to the small of Arthur’s back, a fire of need burns through him, and Merlin moans loudly, leaning down and taking the tip of Arthur’s ear between his teeth, biting down as gently as he can manage in the frenzy of lust that’s taken hold of him. Blood pumps in his ears, and his cock aches with need. He knows the elixir will give him the stamina he needs to properly finish the deed, but the sensation of Arthur’s body pinned beneath him makes Merlin feel like he’s going to come at any second.

Arthur groans, pushing his arse upward, his body going suddenly limp in submission.

“Take me, fuck me,” he begs.

Merlin growls low in his throat, getting to his knees and pushing Arthur’s legs apart. Arthur pants as Merlin licks a stripe from Arthur’s balls to his pelvic bone before pressing his cock to his entrance and pushing in with one hard, long stroke. A cry escapes Arthur’s lips and starts the chanting up again in the crowd beyond the dark circle where they’ve fallen. Pulling Arthur up so that he’s kneeling in an upright position, Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s torso and plunges in again and again, sucking on Arthur’s neck with eager lips and tongue while Arthur’s trussed dick grows hard and he moans piteously at every swipe of Merlin’s cock and it’s magically enhanced piercing against his prostate.

“Mine, you are _mine_ ,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s ear, hips jerking, cock squeezed into the tight, hot hole. He shifts his hips, sliding his cock-ring so that Arthur keens in ecstasy, writhing under Merlin’s worshipful hands.

 “I am yours,” Arthur hoarsely utters the ceremonial words he is required to say, and Merlin’s balls tighten, waiting for the next part. “Breed me.”

Merlin sucks in a breath, overcome, and, pushing Arthur back down to the ground, gets to his feet, crouching, and pistons into him. He can feel his release coming; it’s been a long time since he’s let his seed out…he’s been saving it for this. To breed Arthur. Below him, Arthur pants and groans, back arched and beautiful.

“M-Merlin!” Arthur cries out, fingers scrabbling at the grass, and Merlin knows he wants his release, but not yet…not until…

Merlin comes with a blinding jolt, his entire body tensing, the chanting around them turning seamlessly to joyous song. Emptying himself into Arthur, Merlin pulls out, and before he can sag into exhaustion, he pushes his head between Arthur’s legs, pulls off the ribbon, and sucks him into his mouth, welcoming Arthur’s seed down his throat as Arthur jerks and moans above him.

“The Union is complete!” Ezzie shouts. “Merlin, Prince of Heka and Iam and his venerable Consort Arthur are now One!”

A cheer goes up, filling Merlin’s ears. He’s dimly aware of Arthur sprawled out in the cool grass beside him, and then of the helping hands and the silk of a robe. He’s soon bundled into the car beside Arthur and taken back to the palace, where they’re immediately ensconced in the bedroom that Morgana so carefully prepared for them, enough food for an army at their bedside.

“Happy?” Merlin asks Arthur as he feeds him some of the special fruit from his garden.

Arthur smiles a slow, sated smile, fair hair almost white against the cerulean sheets. “Incredibly.”

Merlin leans in to kiss him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Arthur scoots a little closer in the bed, pulling Merlin so that he lies almost completely on top of him. “It’s been difficult but worth it.”

Merlin nods. He’s taken off the magical enhancements and replaced the silver balls on his piercing, and Arthur runs a thumb over them, making Merlin jump.

“You’re hard again.”

“Try _still_. You keep me perpetually hard.”

Arthur smiles, guiding Merlin to his entrance. “Let’s do it again, without the audience this time.”

Merlin complies by sliding into Arthur’s still oiled channel. “It wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be.”

“Must have been that drink they gave us,” Arthur says, arching up into Merlin’s next thrust. “I hardly noticed they were there.”

Merlin kisses Arthur, tongue playing with his. “Was your sister there? I –mmph—didn’t see her.”

“No. She said there was no way she could watch it. I wasn’t going to argue…oh, oh, gods, Merlin!”

Merlin begins to thrust in earnest, shivering with every little enticing noise Arthur makes.

“You feel amazing,” he breathes, then clenches his teeth, trying to hold off his climax until Arthur comes. Arthur’s languidly stropping his cock between them, and the sight is so gorgeous, Merlin has to squeeze his eyes shut, pressing his nose into Arthur's neck, still fragrant with bath oils.

When Arthur clenches around him with a sob, Merlin let’s go, trembling, falling against Arthur and kissing him as the last of his climax wrings through him.

They hold one another, and Merlin has to remind himself that they are together now and no one can take that away, before he can loosen his grip on Arthur’s waist and settle down enough to sleep.

In the wee hours of the morning, they get the call from Arthur’s aunt that someone managed to break into the prison dressed as a guard and kill both Uther and Cenred. The man was shot down while fleeing. His name was George Hastings.


	55. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Thanks to all of you who have read all the way through. Sorry if it got too long and that I wasn't able to update as quickly as usual.Writing off the cuff and unbetaed sometimes turns out less that what I'd like, but I enjoy it. I hope I was able to tie up most of the loose ends. <3

_Two Years Later_

Arthur saunters into the bathroom, quickly stripping off his sweaty clothing and turning on the taps. He steps under the cool spray of water, sighing as the filth of his workout washes off. Gwaine almost won this morning’s wrestling match after Arthur beat both Lance and Uriah, (Arthur wasn’t dumb enough to take on Percy), but Arthur rallied and he feels good.

Rinsing shampoo out of his hair, Arthur turns off the tap, squeezing his eyes shut against the water streaming down his face, and reaches for a towel, finding it a bit more quickly than he expected.

“Good workout?” Merlin whispers in his ear, and Arthur opens his eyes, blinking, a smile spreading across his face.

“I won,” he says, and Merlin laughs.

“Good for you! See, having a baby didn’t make you into a woman.”

“I never said it would, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur wacks him with the towel, moving past to look in the full-length mirror. If anything, his body is more fit since having Liam. Merlin’s arms come round him, pulling him close.

“You smell delicious,” Merlin murmurs into Arthur’s neck, and Arthur feels the tingles of desire all the way from his ears to his toes.

Slowly, Merlin turns him, pressing Arthur against the mirror. Arthur winces. “Cold!” then sighs when Merlin attaches his mouth to his nipple, sucking until some milk lets down into his mouth. Arthur still can’t get over how he’s a man capable of giving birth and lactating, yet in appearance, still a man; but looking down, the evidence is there--milk dribbling from his neglected nipple and running down his fit chest to disappear into his pubic hair where his cock stirs with interest.

“Save some of that for the baby,” Arthur breathes, and Merlin just hums, sucking harder until Arthur bucks up against him.

Merlin’s hand wraps around Arthur’s hardening cock, stroking it softly, and Arthur moans, leaning his head back against the mirror and closing his eyes, feeling his knees get wobbly.

The suction stops but the stroking continues, and Merlin’s lips touch Arthur’s. “You’re so sexy,” Merlin says into their kiss.

“Mmph,” Arthur answers, arching his back as Merlin tugs at him.

“Sire?” A voice comes from their bedroom, and Merlin sighs.

“What is it?” he calls.

“Baby Liam would like his meal now, if the Consort is willing. If not, I can make up a bottle…” the nanny’s voice trails off.

Merlin’s eyes meet Arthur’s, and Arthur can see they’re on the same page; Liam should have Arthur’s milk whenever possible.

“I’ll be right there!” he calls before kissing Merlin fervently. “We’ll pick this up later.” He reaches for the door knob.

In the bedroom, the wriggling baby settles easily when Arthur lies beside him, offering his nipple. At first it was odd, feeding the child with his manly chest, but magic makes it possible, and when Liam suckles, milk flows. Arthur smiles at the feeling of contentment it gives him, so different from the longing desire he feels when Merlin does the same thing. He looks up to catch Merlin watching them from the doorway, so much love on his face that Arthur reaches out his hand for him. Merlin grins and climbs onto the big bed, cuddling on the other side of their son, head crooked to rest on Arthur’s arm as he threads his fingers through Liam’s soft, brown hair. The baby’s bright blue eyes look everywhere while he suckles, rolling to see past Arthur’s shoulder, then up to try to catch Merlin’s eyes. His little feet rise to press against Arthur’s bare stomach, as though to push him away, while his mouth continues sucking hungrily. He wraps a tiny fist around Merlin’s finger, squeezing it.

“I heard from Gwen this morning,” Merlin whispers, and Arthur looks at him, surprised.

“How is she?”

“She says she’s doing all right. She’s working on a project for your aunt. She asked about Melanie—I told her Lance and Gwaine dote on her.”

“They certainly do,” Arthur says quietly. “I still can’t believe she left her like that.” Gwen left for Earth shortly after giving birth to the little girl, with Lance’s assurances that he wanted to raise her.

“I think she felt she couldn’t be a good mother to her, considering the circumstances of her birth,” Merlin replies.

“Is she seeing Thomas?” Arthur asks, not commenting on Merlin’s statement, because he still can’t fathom how Gwen could leave her child and he never will be able to. Looking down at Liam, he knows nothing in the world could make him leave him.

“I think so. Verlaine has recently promoted him, did you know that?”

Arthur didn’t, but thinks his father’s former butler deserves it.

“Morgana and Mithian are coming for dinner,” Merlin says, reaching up to push Arthur’s fringe from his eyes.

“Are you cooking?” Arthur raises a brow. Recently Merlin’s been attempting to learn.

Merlin laughs. “No, don’t worry. I’ll leave that to Asa.” He looks down. “I think he’s asleep.”

Sure enough, Liam’s hold on Arthur’s nipple has loosened, milk running down his tiny chin, and his eyes are shut, dark lashes shadowing delicate skin. Merlin reaches down to cover him with a blanket, and Arthur carefully rolls off the bed, placing pillows around the child so he won’t roll off.

He and Merlin walk into the adjoining room, and Merlin turns to press a kiss just under Arthur’s jaw, running his tongue along the stubble there. Arthur hums in his throat, his hands coming up to untie Merlin’s pants. He feels Merlin’s breath pick up as he steps out of them, long cock springing to life against Arthur’s abdomen.

“Want you,” Arthur says against Merlin’s lips. Since the baby, Arthur’s begun fucking Merlin occasionally, and it’s always a sweet pleasure for the both of them. Merlin nods his head, and Arthur turns him, pressing him to the wall before getting to his knees and urging Merlin’s legs apart. Pressing kisses along Merlin’s upper thighs and along the soft line of his buttocks, Arthur moans into his lover’s skin, getting an answering moan from Merlin as he widens his stance and shucks his T-shirt.

Arthur uses his thumbs to pull apart Merlin’s cheeks and licks a wet stripe between them, loving the sound Merlin makes when he does so, along with the way his legs tremble beneath Arthur’s arms.

“Arthur…”

Arthur continues to slowly lick, wetting Merlin thoroughly, getting harder when Merlin pushes back into his face, wanting more.

“Arthur, fuck! Gods…”

Arthur gets to his feet, pressing kisses along the nape of Merlin’s neck, cock throbbing against Merlin’s arse.

“Fuck me, dammit!” Merlin almost whines, and Arthur chuckles into his hair.

“Impatient…”

“You arse! Just do it!” Merlin wiggles against him, and Arthur can’t wait any longer. He positions himself and pushes in slowly, the heat of Merlin’s channel welcoming him and almost bringing him off right there.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur counts to ten before daring to move. He takes it slow, Merlin writhing against him, hands pressed to the wall, and desire builds until Arthur’s dizzy with it.

“Love you, Merlin,” he whispers against the tattoo on Merlin’s back, and Merlin moans long and low, shuddering with release, clenching around Arthur and bringing a burst of pleasure over him that melts into a heady fizz.

Afterward, lying together in the spare bed, arms and legs wrapped around one another until Arthur isn’t sure which are his and which are Merlin’s, Arthur bestows languid, open-mouthed kisses on his mate. Merlin looks at him with eyes a truer blue than Arthur’s ever seen, so much love in them that Arthur’s heart aches. Merlin’s hand is warm on Arthur’s back, softly stroking.

“Who would have guessed?” Merlin says softly. “All that time hating you, but really loving you.”

Arthur doesn’t want to think about the past and silences Merlin with a kiss.

“I never thought I could be this happy,” Merlin says against Arthur’s lips. Arthur sweeps his tongue into Merlin’s mouth and for long moments there’s only the sound of sucking and licking. When he pulls away, Merlin continues, eyes wet and sincere, “I love you, Arthur. I mean it…you and Liam…you’re everything to me.”

Arthur dips down to nip at Merlin’s nose, and Merlin laughs, moving his face away. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” Arthur says softly, kissing him again and again until Merlin gives in and shuts up.

 

_finis_


End file.
